Winter Diaries
by Passivefish32
Summary: With the arrival of winter, Mae is eager to come to terms with the strange events of Autumn and tackle her lingering anxieties by... writing a diary?
1. Chapter 1

So, this is kind of weird. I mean, really weird.

But here it is. I'm actually writing a diary. An effin' diary!

This is honestly kinda surreal. I never thought I'd write one of these things. Isn't this the kind of stuff preteens do? This isn't even something I did when I was little. I mean, I'm still little, I guess. I can still remember some of the girls in school who used to keep their own diaries. Every night before bed, they'd write down all the interesting things that'd happened to them in the day. I never understood it – I never wrote any of this stuff down when I was younger. I was always busy with other things. Being a kid. Doing crimes. Tryin' to fit in at school.

Beating up Andy Cullen with my baseball bat.

Brilliant. Great start, Mae.

No, you know what? I'm going to keep writing. I'm the one who decided this needs to happen and I'm not giving up on this whole idea just because my brain and mouth don't line up properly all the time and I end up saying dumb shit without meaning it even when it's about something important like this and I just wish it didn't always have to be this way!

Huh. It actually felt good to get that all out there.

But, as I said, it's my decision. This isn't part of some sort of medical prescription or any crap like that. I'm not being forced to write this at gunpoint. And this isn't another one of Dr Hank's hairbrained suggestions, though I've got this creeping feeling he would give me an approving pat on the back right now if he knew about this. Euch.

There's only one reason I'm resorting to this.

I don't want this all to disappear.

A lot of stuff has happened recently – things I don't think I can begin to fully understand right away, and some things I'm worried I'll never understand. Right now, it feels like everything is out of sync. Everything I thought I knew has been upturned and is spinning through my head uncontrollably. And the shapes are never far behind. I still see them in my dreams from time to time, obscuring and distorting – turning everything into a living mockery. One day, it'll happen again. They'll become all I see.

The truth is, despite all that's happened, I'm still scared that everything may come undone.

I need a way to let it all out – somewhere I can put my thoughts to rest. The pictures only do so much. There's this clichéd old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, right now I feel I need the pictures, the words they're worth and any other words I can come up with.

I need it all.

Hopefully through writing it down, I can take some of the pressure off my mind. Maybe it'll even create the distance I need to look at these things more closely and begin to make sense of them. That'd be nice, though I won't hold my breath.

Also, I'm gonna write whatever comes to mind. Literally every thought that pops into my head, or something close to that, anyway. It's the only way this is gonna work, I think. And it's important. There's a fancy term for it – 'streamofconsciousness' or something?

So that's how this is going to go. Sitting here in my little attic bedroom, I'm gonna let my mind flow out on to the paper. Not in a gory sense, though that would be kind of hardcore. A sea of brains, flooding out of the attic and down the stairs. Sounds like something out of one of Granddad's stories.

One more thing, though it's kind of a side note: I'm writing this in one of Granddad's old notebooks. It just feels right to do it this way and the laptop is _way_ too distracting. Too easy to boot up chattrBox, and Gregg and Bea are probably still online right now. Never mind – I will endure.

I haven't told them that I've started writing, by the way. No-one can know about this.

Honestly, it's been kind of a while since I last wrote anything. I think the last time might've been high school. Yikes. And I certainly didn't get any practice while I was away. It's not like I actually wrote any of my study papers while I was cooped up in that awful place. The only thing I learned at college was to not go to college.

What I'm saying is, my writing style is probably more than a bit rusty. If it doesn't read well, then I'm sorry, reader. Please address all complaints to the streamofconsciousness.

Yeah, I just addressed you: the one reading this, whoever you are. I mean, I know I'm only writing this down for my own benefit – and I'm sure as hell never gonna show this to anyone. But there's this feeling of inevitability I can't shake. It's like, once something's written down, it's gotta be read by someone eventually, right? Otherwise….

No, not going there.

If there really is someone reading this, who are you? Are you from the future? Like, someone who works at a museum and analyses historical artifacts and stuff? Is this diary something you dug up out of the dirt?

I feel sorry for you, if that's the case. You're living in some dreamy future world and probably got all this cool shit you _could_ be doing but you're wasting your time reading some crazy girl's diary. Hope they're paying you enough at the future museum.

At least you have a job.

I have so many questions about what the future holds – not that it matters all that much. Unless I've somehow found a forbidden secret to infinite life, I'm most likely dead – gone the way of the dinosaur. But for you, my wonderfully curious reader from the future, I'll list some of the questions I would consider asking:

· Does Possum Springs still exist? Or was there some kind of nuclear apocalypse and it's just a big crater now?

· Do people in the future lead _normal_ lives?

· Have you invented a way to travel into the depths of space? And have you ever visited any of the stars?

· Does all your food come in pills that you swallow with water?

· Is Snack Falcon still in business? (I doubt that even a nuclear armageddon could snuff them out. The cockroach of convenience stores.)

Those are just a few of the questions I would ask you, futureperson, but I've got so many more. Oh well – it didn't hurt to ask, right?

Y'know, if I am dead, there's an outside chance I'm buried somewhere near wherever you found this diary. Maybe you could dig me up and bring me back with some of your future technology? Restore me to life with the power of science? That would be pretty rad.

Assuming you can do that, what other sorts of technology do you have? Do you have robots? Or are **you** a robot? Do people in the future walk around with all sorts of cyber-kinetic modifications like in those sci-fi movies people used to watch on VHS? I'd totally get in on something like that. I'd like a set of laser eyes – big, nightmarish things that could burn a hole through a chain fence from hundreds of feet away. Also, some sort of robotic arm with a clawed hand that I could use to freak people out. Though maybe it wouldn't be that freaky to people in the future if everyone...

* * *

Jesus, Mae. You're a total headcase.

Looks like this whole 'document your thoughts' idea fell at the first hurdle.

Ok since I'm determined to make sure this diary thing doesn't crash and burn on my very first entry, I'll reel it in a bit. I need to talk about some of the stuff that happened since that night in the woods. Guess I'll start with the obvious.

Two days ago, I told Mom and Dad about the stuff that happened with college. Oh boy, did I ever.

It was the night before last. Gregg and I were busy doing crimes during the day so I got home kinda late. And I was pretty worried 'cause I'd agreed with Mom and Dad I was gonna be there at this certain time and I was at least an hour late.

When I got in, I found them both in the kitchen. They were sat at the table together. Mom had made us tacos – she said she'd kept it all warm in the oven while they'd waited for me.

NB - I think it was the tacos that got me to talk about it. Truly, Mom knows the key to my heart. I think I would give up my soul for tacos, any day of the week.

So I wandered over to the table and sat down between them. We ate together in complete silence. Sort of eerie, looking back on it. I think they were waiting for me to talk but I was too busy eatin'.

Again, tacos. Feed me tacos and I'll tell you anything – just not till I'm done eating.

Once I was finished, I looked up from my plate and saw the two of them just watching me. There was this long, kinda awkward pause. An' I knew what I needed to do and I took a deep breath and I gathered all the thoughts in my head together and lined 'em all up in perfect order like I'm about to send 'em all off to war…

I started talking. And, bit by bit, it started to come out. Slowly at first, like one of those rusty, old sluice gates where the water only filters out slowly at the bottom. Then, the gates started to open and, before I knew what was happening, it all came crashing down. And the weight of what'd been building up behind those gates – even I hadn't expected it.

Even so, it was less stressful than I thought it would be. I guess I'd built this picture up in my head of how it would go, how they would react, what they would say. None of it good, obviously. But, to be honest, it wasn't like that at all. Mom and Dad – they were… honestly, kinda amazing.

For one, they didn't really _say_ anything – not until after I was done, anyway. Mom just sat there and watched me silently, for the most part. But the way she looked into my eyes, she seemed so _interested in me_ **haha let me rewrite that. wow.**

Mom seemed so interested in what I was telling her. She was so full of concern, like, genuine concern. But she seemed kinda intrigued at the same time – like she thought she'd had me all figured out and then discovered something new and unexpected. But above all, she just seemed so… accepting of me.

It's a parent thing, I guess. Even when we used to fight, she was always my biggest fan. Never fully understood why, though. If I were her, I sure as hell wouldn't be _my_ biggest fan. Most strident heckler, maybe. I'd send myself nasty letters on a daily basis. Or just smash the letterbox to bits.

Anyway, Mom helped me so much that night. Just the way she listened and kinda took it all in. And then the stuff she told me afterwards...

Bless you, Mom.

(If you have a problem with me saying something like that in a diary, you can kiss my ass.)

Dad was great, too. He could see how much I was struggling at points. When it got tough, he placed his hand on mine and kept it there the whole time I spoke, just looking me in the eye. I know I'll sound like a total goofball admitting this, but having them both there and listening to me – I think it saved me.

I ended up crying a lot, of course. It's always the waterworks for me. Once I'd started, it was difficult to stop. I could have drowned that house in tears – it would've made the flood of 1988 look like a light shower. But Mom and Dad, they both stayed with me the whole time until it finally stopped. I was so tired by the time I was done, I almost fell asleep on the spot. Dad had to help me up the stairs when we were done talking. Last thing I remember was saying goodnight to both of them. And that was that.

Well, it's all out now. Just like some big tabloid headline – 'The secret's out! Mae Borowski tells all in scandal-filled exposé!'

Whatever. It's done. Nothing I can do about it now.

I'm still not sure if it was the right decision to tell them – or the right time. But since that night, things have felt... different. It's like the air between us has cleared a little. And the weight of those thoughts I've been carrying around feels lighter, somehow. I guess what I'm saying is, things seem to have gotten a little better?

I don't want to sound too hopeful. There are still problems. Mom and Dad are still having money troubles with the house. Gregg and Angus are still planning on moving out next year. People are starting to get suspicious at why half the town just disappeared overnight.

It's all still a great big mess. And at the centre of it all, there's…

Phew. One step at a time, Mae.

Actually, I'm gonna stop here. If I don't, I'll never get to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to put my thoughts in order and avoid rambling like a complete lunatic.

'Put your thoughts in order.' That was another one of Dr Hank's suggestions, wasn't it?

Get out of my head, Doc!

In all honesty, I think the pictures in the journal helped to keep me under control – for a short time, anyway. Hopefully, writing this will do the same.

Maybe one day, if I stick at it, I'll be able to put everything in order. Maybe I'll come out of this a model citizen – or a bigger nutcase than before.

All I can do is see what tomorrow holds.

* * *

Oh yeah, one other thing. Since this is technically a diary, I guess there's some sort of unwritten rule that I have to start each entry with 'Dear Diary" or something...

Man, eff the rules! I'm gonna come up with something better.

You aren't ready for this.


	2. Chapter 2

Denizens of the future! It is I, the spirit of Mae Borowski, come to haunt you with tales of my life! Cower in fear and pay witness to...

* * *

Nope. I'm not using this. Way too long for an introduction. Not sure I got the tone right, either.

Maybe 'Dear Diary' would work better. Let me think about it.

'Dear Diary' would not work better.

Forget it. I'm giving up on this idea. I don't need to preface every single thought of mine. Besides, the chronicles of Mae Borowski require no introduction – as I'm sure you'll agree, reader.

So, autumn was strange. **Really** strange. Like, so strange I don't even know where to begin. That's a good start, right?

It's frustrating, to be honest. When I first thought of doing this diary thing, I thought I could just splurge all my thoughts on to the page at once – get it all out there, you know? But I don't think it'll work if I do it that way. There's just too much to cover in one go – too many things circulating in my head at once. The stuff with the cult, the cosmic horror, the dreams – some of it is just overwhelming to even think about. The only way I'm going to make sense of it is if I go one step at a time.

It's the same thing with Mom and Dad. I was so scared when I told them about college. I thought it would be too much, too soon. Too tragic. The moment it came out, I was so frightened that everything would fall apart. Ultimately, the tacos were my undoing.

As I said, it's done now. I'm still here but I've gotta be careful. One wrong move and things could still come undone.

I can liken it to a puzzle. It's like holding a giant ball of yarn in my hands and there's a single loose thread. I have to take that single thread and unravel it slowly, bit by bit, or else the whole thing might unravel suddenly, unpredictably. Then everything falls apart.

Sorry, totally crappy analogy. I've got yarn on the brain.

In the long term, though, there shouldn't be a problem. There are a lot of strange things I need to go over but I can do this. Even if I've got to take it slow and process it step by step, I'm still glad I'm finally doing this. This is the first time in a while that I've properly dedicated myself to something. It feels… kind of good, actually.

If I put some distance between myself and autumn, things may become clearer. That's my hope. So, rather than diving straight into the past, maybe I should start with the present and work backwards?

Let's start with winter. It's only just hit us here in Possum Springs. It's freakin' freezing already and there's ice all over the place. I don't remember it ever being this cold at this time of year before. Looks like it could be a really big one this year.

As cold as it is during the day, there's one big upside: now that it's winter, we're getting more and more trains passing through. We usually get a few each evening and sometimes I'm able to spot one or two during the day. God, I've missed this. Trains, man. Sitting in bed, listening to the sound of them zoom by. It's the best thing in the world.

But honestly, things have quietened down a lot since autumn madness. Possum Springs is turning into a complete ghost town – there's barely anyone around. Really seems like winter's got everyone busy – but with what, I couldn't tell you. Or maybe they all collectively froze to death. I mean, in their homes. Not the ones who are at the bottom of a collapsed mineshaft, obviously.

Dial it back a notch, Mae…

In the meantime, I've been hanging out with Lori some more. I can usually find her lurking around town, even when it's otherwise empty. She's only little and I get the feeling she needs someone to keep her company. Wonder if she'll be out tomorrow at our usual meeting place? The rooftops are getting kind of slippery from all the ice and less people are going up there. Not gonna stop me though! Come rain or sunshine, I'm gonna climb. Civil disobedience ain't my problem!

Selmers is still out and about most days. She's been pretty busy with things too. I think the winter months are 'feeding into her poetic sensibility'. That's what she tells me, anyway. I wouldn't know much about that but I'll always listen to anything she comes up with. Girl's got talent. She could run for poet laureate. I don't know what's involved but she could totally do it.

'Poet Laureate Selmers'. Wow, I'd vote for that – if it's the sort of thing you vote for. Maybe I'll suggest it next time I see her, if they haven't already appointed her by then.

They're the only people I see in and around town at the moment. Germ? I don't even know where that kid's gotten to, honestly. Haven't heard a word from him since that well business.

So I guess the arrival of winter has limited my social circle even further? Whatever. I'm not exactly a socialite – never was. Can't imagine a cold spell is going to bother me too much. But it's not the same for Mom and Dad – winter's causing all sorts of problems for them.

Mom's still at church every day, though she said they've had fewer and fewer people turning up. As I said, there's ice everywhere – council haven't bothered gritting any of the roads at all. According to her, the roads and pathways up the hill have gotten so icy that the poor old codgers can't even get up the effin' hill. That's just total insanity. We're so close to Christmas and no one in town can make it to church!

Oftentimes, she's the only one there for the whole day until Pastor K gets in. I guess it must get lonely for Mom at times. She isn't letting it get to her, though. I think she probably sees it as some sort of test of faith. 'The sole believer atop the frozen peak' – sounds like the sort of phony test God would enjoy enacting on members of his loyal flock.

I have something I'd like to say to you, God (if you happen to be listening). I don't know what you're playing at, but my Mom can handle any of your tests.

And then there's Dad. He went ahead and quit his job at Ham Panther. I want to be happy for him, giving big corporate the middle finger. I always hated the thought of him slaving away behind a deli counter all day for a pittance. What kind of life is that?

That said, this hasn't happened at the best time, what with the loans company on their back about repayments. He's putting himself out there and looking for a new job but it ain't that easy. Now that it's winter, there's isn't a lot of recruitment going on. He's sent out a ton of letters to employers and the handful of responses he's gotten so far have been limp-wristed rejections.

Job market's totally dead – even deader than it usually is. Twelve feet under, bare minimum. It's buried so far underground, you'd probably need a mining drill to exhume it.

I feel bad for Dad. Honestly, I'm worried about him. He's getting kinda old and goofy – I mean, even goofier than he used to be. I don't know who'll take him.

Listen to me – like I'm one to judge. I'm not looking to put him down. I wish there was something I could do to help Mom and Dad, though they're probably better off without me. Heck, I'm the reason they're in this whole mess to begin with.

Hang on.

I can hear one of the trains coming along the tracks in the distance. Gonna stop writing for a moment and just drink it in.

BRB.

Aw yeah. That was so gooood. I'm tingling all over.

Guess we were talking about me or something.

Oh! I've been rambling on and I didn't even mention the awesome day I had with Gregg! We had such a great time. It was a day of lights – nothing but lights. Me and Gregg, we light up this town. That's the truth, right there.

I caught him at Snack Falcon just as he was finishing his shift. The first order of the day: some good, old-fashioned demolition. He had another batch of strip lighting units he had to shift from the Snack Falcon. We took care of those in the way we best know how. Between you and me, I'm starting to build up a really good batter's arm.

Angus was out of town on family business today so, to surprise him, Gregg had the idea of decorating their flat for Christmas. We raided the Snack Falcon storeroom and took a bunch of fairy lights and packets of fake snow – all the kind of stuff they start selling in the run-up to Christmas. We headed back to their flat with armfuls of the stuff and set about decorating the place.

When we were done hanging the lights up and scattering snow all over the floor, we decided it could use a little something extra. Then Gregg had this amazing idea: he'd done some digging a few days before with some of the town council staffers. While speaking to them, one of them let slip the exact location where Possum Springs council stores its Christmas lighting supply before they put it all up in Towne Square. It's not the same place where they stored the old parade stuff, the final resting place of my dear beloved Mallard, but a different building altogether, just a few blocks down the road. I swear this town must be full of empty buildings that they just cram full of junk.

Anyway, we agreed we should go and check the place out. We broke in and found our pièce de résistance: a frickin' huge hanging light, shaped like a star that sparkles with a thousand different colours when it's switched on. When we first tested it out, I just stared at it slack-jawed – Gregg said my eyes were like dinner plates. I would kill to have one like it in my room.

It took a lot of effort but we managed to haul it out of there and back to the flat. It's hanging up in their kitchen. As I said, it's kinda massive and covers most of the worktop and the entire sink area. But it sparkles! Gregg is thrilled about it, of course. Thanks to us, their flat is now a regular winter wonderland. I know Angus is going to love it. Only thing they're missing is a Christmas tree – but there's always tomorrow, right?

Sorry, reader. Futureperson. I should have warned you beforehand, but you should understand that you're reading the diary of a bona fide criminal – the infamous bandit queen of Possum Springs. As a matter of fact, reading this could make you an accessory to the crime. Just one of our many crimes!

I'd ask you to keep it between us but, assuming you're reading this in the distant future, I probably escaped the law via death a long time ago.

Speaking of which, I got thinking about the future museum idea from yesterday and I started wondering: what would a future museum look like? I mean, if such a place exists, I've got to be in there, obviously. Or, at least, a part of me should be in there. And this diary, by design, is a part of me. And you, Futureperson, as a reader, are a part of this, too.

So, assuming this finds its way into a museum, who does that make you? Are you an archaeologist? Someone who rummages around in the dirt looking for ancient things to shove into a museum?

Wait, I've got it! You're the **curator**! It's so obvious, I can't believe I didn't think of it before!

Assuming enough of this diary has survived for you to read it, I wonder what you think of me from what you've read so far? I'll bet you couldn't resist adding this diary to your collection, right? You must've read this and been like "Wow. All the other future people need to see this."

I hope I'm your craziest exhibit. I hope people flock from across the world to read what I've written here. I can imagine it so clearly: amongst all the dusty old skeletons, ancient weaponry and relics of lost civilizations, a single glass container with a tattered old diary suspended inside. My words! My life! Preserved forever, for all to see!

Alright, Mae. Too far down the rabbit hole again. Time to come on up.

I'm sorry. Really, I am. I promise I'm not trying to be attention-seeking when I fantasise about this stuff. It's just my idea of fun. I'm not an egotist. Trust me – if I ever had an ego, it isn't good for much these days.

Come to think of it, I haven't been to a museum in a long time. There was one upstate that Mom and Dad used to take me to when I was tiny – a real big one with multiple floors and this gigantic, underground area. I'd spend the whole day running in circles around the rooms with the dinosaur bones and reconstructed prehistoric creatures, pretending they'd come to life and were chasing after me for food.

Dude. Museums are hilarious, when you think about it. And all kinds of hardcore.

Alright, fine! I'll drop the whole 'future museum' idea. It's kinda dumb and self-indulgent, I know. I'll stop writing about it here (I'll still think about it privately, though!).

But there's still one question gnawing at me – one thing I'm still desperate to know:

Who exactly are you, reader?

I know I'm being obsessive but I swear I can't help it! I simply can't let it out of my mind. I keep trying to remind myself that I shouldn't be thinking about the person, if anyone, who is reading whatever I write in here. "I'm writing this for myself. Whether or not anyone ever reads it – that this isn't the point of why I'm doing this." That's what I tell myself, over and over. But it's like the more I think about it, the more I tell myself it _is_ the point. And the more I think about _you_ , whoever you are, the more curious I get!

I mean, you've got to be from the future, right? You must be. 'Futureperson' is literally the first phrase that enters my mind whenever I think of you – the one who cares enough to read my own words. But when I think about the other things, what you might look like and where you're from, a thousand images enter my head. You could be from anywhere in the world. Maybe you're from another country altogether.

That's kind of weird to think about.

I know someone from high school who emigrated. They came up with a plan in final year to move away. They said they couldn't wait to hightail it out of the country and find their fortunes elsewhere. There were a few of them, come to think of it. Can't remember any of their names – maybe Gregg knows. They were dead set on the idea, though, and they made all their plans to leave come the end of our last year. As soon as finals were over, they were gone.

I don't know what happened to any of them. I never heard from them again. It's almost like they fell off the side of the world, or just disappeared altogether. I guess it's possible they're living somewhere, happily or not so happily. Or maybe they really did disappear. Maybe they went too far out with nothing to hold on to.

Hate to say it but it kinda reminds me of Cole. Cole-io. At the end of school, just before I went off to college, I always thought he would disappear for good. I guess I was hoping that would happen out of sheer humiliation. I don't know why I expected that – it was stupid. Guys like Cole never disappear completely, no matter what sort of dreams and ambitions they might have. They've got roots, just like a tree – long, winding roots that claw deep inside the earth and take hold. No matter how far away they reach, no matter how much they try to escape, the roots will always be there to prevent you from going too far. They'll keep you grounded – make you hold on with all you've got. So I knew Cole would be back, one way or another.

Not everyone was born with roots. I was, though, and I knew Cole had 'em too. When we were together, it was sometimes awkward. Ok, a _lot_ of times. Too many times to count – even though we weren't together for long. Even before that incident that will never be named or mentioned, we got our roots tangled more than once. But deep down, looking past the mortifying surface, I'll admit there was something I shared in common with him. We felt the same way about these things, I'm sure of it. No matter what happened, we knew we could never bring ourselves to abandon what is truly ours.

That's what you do when you have roots – you hold on. We will live forever, so long as the place where we're rooted continues to exist. Conditional immortality.

Well. I sure took myself on a trip right there.

The good news is that I'm going to stop writing about Cole now. Hopefully, I will never repeat this mistake.

God. I feel so sick right now.

Well, this isn't how I wanted to end this.

I'm going to stop now before I spew all over what I've already written.

Ciao.

* * *

Oh my god!

Snow! It's snowing outside!

I'm not seven years old anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

We had snow overnight. Woke up this morning and it's absolutely everywhere. So much snow. It was at least a foot deep this morning and it's still falling. If it gets any deeper, I'll have to wade through the stuff. Even Mom says she's having difficulty getting to church now (stay strong, Mom!) and it's put a real damper on traffic running through town. And it looks like there's still more to come. Fresh snow – fresh problems.

Even so, the town has gotten a little bit busier than it has been recently. There's something about snow that always seems to get people excited, even though it's the same damn thing every year. All the kids are out in the streets. The Harley's are up to their usual tricks. They're having fun in the snow, making their snowmen and throwing snowballs at each other – typical kid's stuff. It's the same kind of thing I used to do when I was their age. I'm past that stage, I guess. No going back to those times.

I'm pissed off. Today was an unholy dumpster-fire of a day.

Gregg ditched me. We had a plan and he bailed on me. Even worse, I'm starting to think he wants rid of me forever. Everything is just…

Alright, I'll go over what happened. Stay cool, Mae.

Last night, we decided we would spend today finding a Christmas tree for their flat. We were going to borrow the fire axe that they keep stored at their block of flats, head out to the woods and find an innocent little tree to chop down or, as Gregg put it, "murder and conceal in our front room". Really, he was super stoked – just the idea of running through the woods with an axe is enough to get him pumped up. It would have been a laugh. We were both looking forward to it.

When I met up with him at Snack Falcon, though, he seemed completely out of sorts. He said he'd changed his mind and didn't want to go ahead with it.

So I ask him what he wanted to do instead. It didn't really matter to me what we ended up doing – the tree thing was just an idea. But he just kinda stayed quiet. He didn't say a single word. I hate it when he does that. I always know something's up when he goes silent – it's not his natural state of being. Silent Gregg just reeks of BS.

Since he wouldn't say anything, I tried to come up with something. After all, we've gotten pretty good at making our own fun – years of experience.

I suggested we could head into the woods again – do some hunting or find something else to do. Or maybe go back to the Food Donkey and pick up those other masks we left behind, if someone else hasn't already taken 'em. Make another crazy contraption like the one we ended up dumping in the woods. Our boy. Seriously – imagine one of those things with _two_ heads. It would have been the craziest thing. Think of the local legends it could have spawned among the terrified townsfolk.

But he just shook his head every time I suggested something. And then he murmured, real quiet-like, that he didn't want to do anything at all today. That he wanted to take a break from crimes for a while. And I asked him why. After all, you don't just turn your back on the crime life. And he was just um-ing and ah-ing, dragging his heels. And at this point, I was getting real impatient so I just told him to come out with it.

So he went quiet again for a moment – a long-ass moment. Then, when I was starting to think I would end up strangling him, he broke his silence with the lamest excuse imaginable. At first, I couldn't even process it. He said we'd 'leave tracks on the ground' 'cause of all the snow that'd fallen overnight, and that we'd 'get in trouble if we could be traced'.

Can you believe that? Like he ever once cared about that! I knew he didn't believe a single word of that crap. How could he have expected me to believe it? At first, I was just confused – I couldn't really process it. And then this really intense anger just took hold of me, and I could feel this kind of stabbing pain in my temples.

I didn't say anything to Gregg, though – I just ran out of there as fast as I could. The whole thing was making my blood boil and the pain in my head was just getting worse and worse. I couldn't stay there.

I'm still angry about it even now. It's been on my mind all day. I don't know what made him say that. Making excuses like that is so 'not-Gregg'. I don't know what's wrong with him.

Actually, scratch that. I know the _real_ reason he was trying to avoid me. It's got to be Angus. He didn't need to tell me. They've got their sights on the Harbour move next year and he's told Gregg not to bunk off work. It's not like that's any kind of surprise to me – I haven't forgotten about Donut Wolf.

Whatever. Priorities, I guess. They've actually got something to look forward to, unlike yours truly. I get that. What I don't get is why Gregg wouldn't just up and tell me the truth. That's what's really driving me up the wall. We've been over this before. If he thinks he needs to spend more time at work so they don't end up sacking him, he only needed to say – not make up some bullshit excuse.

But I could tell there was more to it than that. It's obvious that Angus is pissed off with him about something – probably our attempt to decorate their flat yesterday. Gregg's a dead giveaway, even when he tries to stay quiet. I'll bet he must have known that Angus wouldn't have liked it (even though the giant star was undeniably fabulous). And yet he just went along with it! What kind of sense does that make? The idea to decorate their flat was _his_ idea, not mine! If he knew Angus was going to hate it, why did we do it in the first place? Why did we steal that huge ass star from the council lights storage? Did he really just go along with it so he could pin the blame on me? So he could get rid of me?

I like Angus. I respect him. And if he doesn't want me around anymore, I understand. But when it's Gregg that's trying to push me away, it just hurts. He's never done that to me before. I just don't know why he had to hide behind Angus on this one. Did I piss _him_ off too, somehow?

Gregg, I thought we were cool. We're supposed to be legends. What happened, dude?

After that disaster, I went to spend some time by myself up on the roofs. I needed some time to cool off – some time alone, away from everyone. But I felt so horrible. While I was sat up there by myself, it kinda seemed like my whole world was falling apart. I spent the whole time just staring out into the distance at the valleys and Possum Jump, their tops coated with snow. And it all felt so wrong. It felt like the world was broken – everything I knew had changed over the course of one night.

I couldn't cope with it. My whole vision would flicker white from time to time and the pain in my temples just went on and on. It felt like my whole skull was burning, the skin splitting down the middle and melting away. It reminded me of one of those superhero transformation scenes I read in some comic a long time ago, only probably more painful and without the motorcycles.

It took a while for me to feel relatively normal again. Once it finally cleared and I could think straight, I stopped off at Video Outpost to see if I could find Angus. I wanted to speak to him about things – maybe offer some kind of apology or something, I wasn't really sure. But he wasn't there – just that lady who works the alternate shifts? D'you know the one?

Crap. I just remembered – there's one other thing I need to mention. Before I ran out of Snack Falcon, I came close to calling Gregg a coward for the way he behaved. A coward. I didn't actually say it – but I was _that_ close. I feel I need to write it here, not because I feel guilty about it, but because I want to be honest about my thoughts. Otherwise, what's the point of all this?

Ok, I do feel guilty about it. I hate thinking about him that way. He's supposed to be my friend, and now he wants me to go away. I don't think he wanted to hurt me when he said that, but he did. His words felt like a twist of a knife. And now, because of what's happened, I don't know where we're headed. Everything has been thrown out of whack. I don't feel good about any of this at all.

Speaking of which, I haven't actually written anything here about Bea yet, have I? Oh jeez.

To be honest, I haven't seen a lot of her recently. She's never online, either. If I had to guess, I'd say she's probably busy as hell right now. She's already been on radio silence for the past week or so. Now that we've had snow, the Ol' Pickaxe must be heaving. It's probably the only place in town that is. You know what people are like: you get a sprinkling of snow and they immediately go crazy kitting themselves out with all manner of gardening tools and snow-shovelling gear. People practically lose their minds.

I sometimes spot her rushing out to get something. I saw her today on the way back home and she looked insanely stressed. Whenever I see her out in town, she barely seems to notice me at all. Or she's deliberately blanking me – I don't know which. Either way, it's pretty clear I'm better off keeping my distance. After autumn, I'd rather not risk pissing her off again. Given the way she's acting right now, I'd probably be better off playing softball with a hornet's nest.

Anyway, after the plans with Gregg fell through, I spent most of today hanging out with Lori instead. She seems really troubled right now. According to her, it gets really cold down by the tracks at this time of year. Like, so cold you can't even think straight – your thoughts just pile up inside your head and freeze into a big block of ice. She keeps saying she needs to get out of their house or she'll go mad.

I still feel pretty bad for her – at least, when she isn't calling me 'killer'. So I spent the rest of the day keeping her company before heading back. Maybe we can do something tomorrow too. Hang around by the tracks, or on the rooftops again, watching life pass us by. Everything moving while we struggle to stay in our place.

The things around us twist and fade, conspiring to snuff out the light and drag it all into darkness. We, the ones who remain, keep our little lanterns burning, like stars in the night sky.

Gah, sorry. This streamofconsciousness thing really gets inside my head sometimes. Selmers would be proud. Still, it's an interesting exercise – writing like this. I thought it would be more difficult for me to do. It feels kinda, what's the word, organic? Natural? Let's go with 'easy'. It's easy for me. Probably 'cause it lets me be honest with myself. Just writing it all down in one go without thinking too hard about it, I find I can just keep writing and writing without worrying what bits to cut out or change.

Surprising how liberating it feels when you aren't actively censoring yourself.

There's something hypnotic about writing like this, too. Sometimes I get so into it, I get the urge to close my eyes while I'm writing. But I don't do it, cause' I wouldn't be able to see and everything I write would be squiggles and random crap. That said, I'm often asking myself if what I'm writing here would make sense to someone reading it. Maybe I'm being too careless? Too free? Without any sort of filter on this stuff, maybe squiggles would actually make more sense. I hope I'm wrong about that. Bad vibes.

In any case, maybe it won't matter. I already decided I was never going to let anyone read it.

Except for you, my dearest Futureperson. You're different. You can read it whenever you like.

Y'know, I really think this diary thing is doing me some measure of good. Just being able to write exactly how I feel – it's catharsis. It's genuine liberty. It's the opposite of Gregg's possibly-fascist helmet and I don't need to be history major to know that!

It's also just worth writing these things down for memory's sake. My memory of certain things gets pretty patchy at times. If I wasn't writing this down, I'd probably forget half of it. And I don't think I can risk that. Some of this stuff just feels too important to forget, you know?

I know you understand.

It just occurred to me that I should give you a name. I mean, it feels like I've dedicated half of this friggin' diary to you already and referring to you as 'Futureperson' all the time seems odd. Although I'm guessing you already have a name and I probably shouldn't…

'Taylor F. Person'

'AKA Futureperson'

That'll do. That's less awkward, don't you think? I mean, except for the part where I implied that your middle name is 'Future'.

That's the least awkward part of it all, isn't it?

Shut up, Mae. Go to sleep, Mae.

I'm sorry you have to deal with this, Futureperson. I'll make it up to you someday. I mean, technically it will probably be difficult to repay you. More likely it'll be impossible – passage of time and all. But it was a nice thought, wasn't it?


	4. Chapter 4

We had another sinkhole last night – a really big one in the plains just outside of town. I woke up early when I felt it. I don't know if it's linked to all the snow we've had. That's my guess. And it's been snowing all day today as well. When this stuff starts to properly melt, we'll be lucky if we don't get another massive flood. And if the snow keeps up, I get the feeling we can expect more damage before the season's out.

Ugh, so gloomy.

I used to like snow. Aunt Mall Cop would always catch me running around when the ground was icy and talk my ear off about it. But now, it's just a constant reminder that this place is tearing itself apart.

After the sinkhole hit, I couldn't get back to sleep. Just nerves, I guess. So I stayed up till I could hear the early morning freight trains rattling on through. I know I've said it before but I _love_ listening to those things. They're so powerful – so unyielding in their purpose. Snow ain't gonna stop them or get them down. They'll just shoulder on, chugging away to where they need to go.

It's so quiet in Possum Springs right now. Quiet like death. All the while, the snow keeps falling. No-one's bothering to shovel it away. It's just going to keep piling up and up and no-one cares. It's like the whole town has just given up. I mean, they haven't even put up their bleedin' Christmas lights yet. Seriously, where are your priorities?!

I don't get it. People seemed genuinely excited as soon as it started snowing. Now it just seems like they all collectively lost interest. Even the kids aren't playing outside in the snow anymore, even though they were rolling in the stuff yesterday. What sort of kids stop playing in the snow after just one day?

Personally, I'm wondering if they all those kids grew up overnight and skipped town. I guess that's sorta unlikely. It'll happen someday, though – mark my words. It's too late for this new generation to put down roots – it'd probably be too dangerous for them to even try. The dirt's practically falling away from underneath them – the ground's waiting to swallow them up. Just ask Jenny.

And honestly, I can hardly blame them if they end up wanting to leave Possum Springs. Might be the safest thing for them, in the long term.

This whole town will end up at the bottom of a giant pit one of these days, I swear. There will come a day when the Earth itself will decide it's had enough of Possum Springs. The ground will rumble and shake, just like it did last night. The earth will split apart with a fiendish roar. A hole will open up in Towne centre, expanding slowly as the Earth opens its big mouth and swallows this entire town whole.

'GULP!'

And that's it. That's what the end of Possum Springs looks like. I've seen it. I know all the futurepeople will be able verify this for me – the records of it must exist somewhere.

Ugh. I'm so effin' tired. All I want to do right now is just crash out, but I know I mustn't. I can't miss a day from this. That would be highly disrespectful to you, Futureperson – an abandonment of my authorly duties. I would never seek to betray a dedicated reader in such a way. I will make myself like a train, cutting my own little path through the falling snow.

Anyway, Possum Springs has become a cold, quiet place as of late. It's pretty eerie, like something out of a horror story. Actually, the way the town is right now, it reminds me of those little illustrations in some of Granddad's old books. Those pictures are some of my fondest memories – but it's not the same when it feels like you're living inside one of them.

I think it's the snow. It covers everything. Nothing but white, as far as the eye can see. It makes me appreciate how colourful this place back in Autumn – the trees and those sunsets that just seem to melt and dye the whole sky orange.

That's all gone now. Those colours are draining out, bit by bit, soon to be obliterated by the white. The snow is everywhere. There's no escaping it. It's transformed Possum Jump into a nightmare. A massive, frosty behemoth – an omen of doom. Towering in the distance, it silently stares down at us, here in town. Just looking at it from the rooftops gives me this woozy feeling in my stomach.

Towne centre was desolate today – completely lifeless. I've never seen it like this before. Virtually no-one was around. Germ. Selmers. None of the teens. Even Lori's gone – I haven't seen her all day. I spent ages searching all over town but I couldn't find her anywhere I looked. She definitely wasn't up on the roofs which, on reflection, isn't all that surprising. She probably didn't want to risk it up there. Along with all the ice, there was a strong, howling wind blowing today so it's gotten kinda dangerous up there. Didn't stop me, of course. For as long as it lasts, this is still my town.

So we ended up not meeting up. I'm guessing Lori decided to stay at home instead, trying to keep warm. I can imagine her in their little house down by the tracks, thinking about her horror films. Her head full of ice. I shouldn't worry so much but she's only tiny. I hope she's ok.

That's to say nothing of the main crew – the band. Today was a day we'd usually have band practice. Of course, I didn't hear anything about it from anyone – not even Gregg, strangely. He was the only person online last night. I expected him to message me about it but I heard nothing. It got me kinda suspicious. I considered swinging by the old party barn to see if they were in there. In the end, I decided against it – I just didn't feel like checking. Besides, they were probably all busy with other things. Or perhaps they were practicing without me. Maybe they found a replacement – someone who can actually play bass. Or perhaps Bea's gone back to playing my parts. On her computer.

Speaking of Bea, she was actually the only one I saw today. She was rushing out of her Dad's apartment and up the hill towards the Ol' Pickaxe. I called after her but I don't think she could hear me. She was gone in a flash. I think the wind drowned me out. Yeah, that's my excuse.

I figured Angus would probably be at work today. I tried to find the courage to go to Video Outpost and speak to him about the stuff that's happened. But I couldn't do it. I should have gone but I just couldn't make myself. I just stood a few feet away from the entrance like a total doofus for, like, at least ten minutes. I screwed up.

As for Gregg, I know where I can find him. But I really don't think I can speak to him right now. It still doesn't feel right, yet.

Screw this. Everything sucks – all of it.

What's wrong with me? Why can't I just speak to them? They're supposed to be my friends. Especially after the autumn stuff we went through, shouldn't I be able to talk to them about literally anything at this point? And now I can't even _approach_ them? Even the mere _thought_ of speaking to any of them right now gives me the shivers. Like when I saw Bea rushing up the hill, I totally clammed up. It wasn't from the cold, either – just some kind of vast, crushing emptiness inside my chest. It's the worst feeling.

I think I'm starting to realise what this all is.

I've been cut off.

That's what's happened. I should have spotted the signs earlier. I guess I'm getting slow, or I didn't want to believe it at first. But that's what this is – no use hiding from it. Gregg, Angus, Bea – they don't want anything to do with me anymore.

How has this happened? I just woke up one day and everything's changed, like someone flicked a switch. Things were starting to get better, and now this?!

I want to believe that it has nothing to do with me. I want to believe that it's only temporary – that it's just a stupid phase that'll pass. But there's this constant nagging voice in my head telling me that I did something – that I messed up big time, somehow. I just want to know what I did wrong. Was it something I said? Something I did?

Is it that I came back from college?

Could be. Lord knows it's caused enough problems for my family. Would half of the weird stuff that happened in autumn have even taken place if I hadn't come back? I haven't got an 'effin clue.

Convincing myself to quit college was tough. I don't care what anyone says. I knew it was gonna cause problems. But I don't think I ever expected _this_.

I don't know what to think anymore. I'm second guessing everything I thought I knew. All the stuff I thought I'd learned, including the things that happened in autumn. I'm always thinking about the stuff Bea said to me at those parties we went to – the stuff I can remember, that is. Maybe she was right.

I was the first one who was given a chance to change things. College was supposed to be my chance, through it sure didn't feel that way. We all know how that went. I guess I didn't want that change hard enough. I'm not saying that's the whole reason I dropped out – but I'd be lying if I said that wasn't at least a part of it.

Now Gregg and Angus have their chance to change things. It's not gonna be the same deal for them as it was for me. Bright Harbor beckons. It'll be a totally new life for them. This is something they want. Hell, they _need_ this. You can bet they aren't gonna let it pass them by, regardless of what it means for us.

And then there's Bea. She hasn't had her chance to change things, yet. But she still wants it. She _craves_ it. It's not like I can blame her for thinking that way, even if I still find it a little confusing at times. She's only a couple of months younger than I am, yet sometimes I feel like we're living in completely different worlds. She has her life and I have mine – no intersection. I think that's how she sees it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to change that. My best available friend, no longer available.

All three of them – they all want this to change. I'm the odd one out.

So, where do things go from here? Is this just how things are gonna be? Are we really going to keep drifting further apart?

Those three probably think it's inevitable – that's why they're distancing themselves from me. Maybe they think they're doing it in good faith. If we're going to get pulled apart eventually, then we might as well get it over and done with now. It'll be less painful that way. I'll bet that's what they're thinking. I can see the logic behind it.

'Let's break apart, one at a time, and go our separate ways. We can start with Mae.'

Bleh.

I'm done with this, Futureperson. I'm overthinking everything and it's making my head hurt. Long story short: today was a load of nothing. Town is dead. Everyone I knew has gone or is going somewhere else.

But you're still here. You haven't left. Even now, you're still reading this. Every single word.

You are wonderful.

As you can tell, I haven't had a lot to do today. Once I got back from town, I just crashed out in my room. I've spent almost all day sitting in bed, thinking about things. Thinking about you, mostly.

I've been trying to draw you, believe it or not. I had some trouble at first. As I said before, I can't be sure what you look like in real life. In theory, you could look like almost anyone. So I've done a lot of drawings. I'm using this journal the good Doctor gave me at my last check-up. It was supposed to be used to document my thoughts and help me to rationalize the bad ones.

Now it's full of pictures of you.

Hah. I'll be in so much shit if Dr Frank ever sees this. He'll probably want to have me sectioned. That doesn't really bother me, though. My only worry right now is that I'll run out of space in the journal for more drawings. I think it'll be fine – I can grab some more paper from downstairs, if I need it.

Drawing you is such a joy. I'm having so much fun thinking up and sketching all of your possible faces – so many different faces. I don't know which one looks more like you in real life, not that it really matters. It's the possibility I find most exciting.

When I flick through this journal and look at all your faces, I can picture a whole future world. I get this image in my mind and it's crystal clear. It's a very different place from here but that doesn't scare me. It's bright, colourful, cool as heck. There are robots and hoverboards and crazy museums and buzzing lights and crazy, whacked-out food stands. And best of all, it's full of people like you!

Of course, I'm aware of what I'm doing whenever I draw another picture of you: I'm making you real. I'm validating your existence, just like you've done for me as a reader. Funny how it goes both ways. I suppose this is my way of repaying you, like I said I would. It doesn't feel that way, though. By reading this, I think you offer far more to me than I can ever offer you. And I'm so very, very grateful for that.

I still wonder what you think of me at this point, having read this far. You must think I'm a little bit weird. Well, I won't try to deny it. I can only hope you understand. I'm sure the future is a strange place, too. Maybe it's a place I would be more well-suited to. I was born too early, evidently. Come to think of it, maybe you understand me better than anyone else in this time!

About that, I was wondering–

Oh God.

I've just had a crazy thought. Well, not _crazy_ exactly – kind of the opposite. Troubling.

Can you… read this? English, I mean.

Can you understand this sentence? How about this one?

Do people still use English in the future?

What if no-one in the future can speak or read English? What if English doesn't even _exist_ in your world? What if the language died out and there's no longer any means to translate it?

I've never properly considered that possibility before.

What if all written languages have been abolished or made obsolete? What if you're all telepathic or communicate with electrical signals or some shit?

 _What if you can't even read?_

Maybe you think I'm joking right now. Or that I'm being deliberately facetious.

I'm not. It sounds stupid but you've got no idea how scary this thought is to me.

No! Say it isn't so! Please God, don't let my Futureperson be an **illiterate**!

Please say you can understand this!

But what if it's true? What if everything I've said so far, everything I've written here, is just a bunch of signs and symbols to you? What if my words are a heap of jumbled meaninglessness that you can't make sense of? A voice you can't understand, no matter how loud it speaks to you?

Just like...

Like...

I need to go.


	5. Chapter 5

Oh my God

I'm so scared

Something terrible is happening.

It's starting to come apart. Things are beginning to unravel.

It was so obvious. I knew this would happen!

Mom and Dad – I shouldn't have told them about that stuff! It was a mistake!

Now it's too late. It's all out of balance. It's all gonna come crashing down. I see it happening all around me – things are already beginning to fall apart.

Before long, it'll all be gone. Possum Springs, my friends, my parents, our home, all of it.

It's all going to end and it's all my fault.

It's the end of everything.

It's here.

* * *

There isn't much time left. I must have faith in the one reading this.

I believe in you, Futureperson. I have full faith that you can read this – that you're still reading this. You can read English like a champ. This diary has miraculously survived the ravages of time and my chicken-scratch handwriting is perfectly legible to your discerning eyes. Most importantly, you haven't lost interest in my ramblings. You may as well be in this very room as I write this. You are still here with me.

I'm telling you now: this might be the last thing I ever write. I am putting my trust in you, Futureperson. I need you right now.

Things have gotten much worse since we last spoke. Since I last spoke to you, rather. You probably gathered as much already.

I had the most horrible dream last night. I woke up this morning all flustered and crazy and my mind was racing and I just needed to write something down. So I did. Now I've gotta explain what exactly I saw. Oh boy.

I feel like such crap. There's this pit in my stomach that just won't go away and I'm constantly on edge. It's been constant since I woke up and I haven't left the house all day. This isn't even the worst of it. I can already tell it's only gonna get worse from here.

Here's how it went down: it took a while for me to fall asleep last night. I was sitting in bed for ages, just thinking about things. Couldn't switch off. In fact, I can remember the exact moment I fell asleep. Then, the moment that sleep took me, I was split apart. It was like my soul was whisked away from my body, wrenched up into the cosmos. It was just me, seemingly all alone, hovering in the middle of the night sky.

The only thing I can remember is being struck by the sheer enormity of space. There were hundreds, thousands of stars scattered all around me. But I quickly noticed I couldn't recognise any of the constellations, no matter how hard I tried. There were no discernible patterns whatsoever: none of the constellations we used to spot when I was younger. None of the ones I spotted through Mr Chazhakov's telescope in fall. Nothing at all – just random blots of light on an endless, black sheet. And the more I looked at them, the more it felt like my entire body was fading. For a while, it was absolutely crushing. I mean that literally – it felt like the whole universe was pushing down on me from all directions, trying to squish me into a little cube. It almost felt like I was suffocating. All the while, I had this creeping sensation that someone, or something, was watching me.

And then it happened. I saw it – the thing I saw in the night sky as we climbed out of those mines. The thing that lurks deep in the void.

Goat. Black goat.

It's still there. Its followers may be dead now, buried under a heap of cold rock, but it never went away. It's still down there, singing its wretched song.

As soon as it came into view, I froze stiff. Couldn't move a muscle. There was no hope of getting away. It tried to speak to me again in that weird, made-up language it uses. Of course, I couldn't understand a word of what it was saying, just like last time. Though I could kind get a vague sense of what it was trying to say, if you get my drift.

It wants me to go back: that much is clear to me. It wants me to return to the place where that cult practiced their sick rituals. It filled my head with images of that underground cave – the old mining shaft. It wants me to go back there, alone. That's what it wants me to do.

I'm really scared. This whole thing is just insane.

I thought we were done with this craziness. Winter should've been a fresh start – a break from the madness. But even though the snow has come to wash everything away, that _thing_ has stuck around. It's as old as time and it clings to this place like a barnacle, or a leech. Now that it's revealed itself, it isn't going to back down. I don't think it'll ever leave me alone until I go back.

I still don't know why it's doing this – why it keeps going after _me_. I'm just some girl who quit college and lives with her parents – what the heck is so special about me?

I was thinking about it before I put pen to paper. Maybe it wants me to be its new worshipper. That's what the cult was suggesting before we buried their asses. That's what they'd wanted to mould us into. Me, Gregg, Angus and Bea: the town's next in line. Worthy little acolytes to carry on their twisted traditions. Delusional crap. Those old fools didn't have a single brain cell to share between them.

Maybe it's more straight-forward than that. I'll bet it sees me as another offering – another piece of meat. It wants me to end up like the ones those cultists snatched away in its name.

It wants me to end up like Casey.

Shit. I didn't want to talk about any of this yet. This is too soon.

But I guess I have no choice now, huh? If I don't say anything now, I'll never get the chance.

Casey. Oh my god, Casey.

Jesus. I miss you, dude.

What happened to you? Did you really die? Is that even possible? Are you really at the bottom of that pit, waiting for me to join you?

Is the world really that mad?

It all seems too unreal – it's too cruel to be true. Casey, Gregg and me – we were the original crew. We torched high school together. We tore this whole town up and made it our own. We were _inseparable –_ bound for glory. Now he's dead. And for what?

Casey had dreams. There was so much he wanted out of life. He could kill it on drums – a total animal. He was determined as hell. He would've never lost his way, even if he'd caught one of those trains one day and rode out of town. And yet they want me to believe he's lying at the bottom of some pit deep underground, all because a group of whackjob psychopaths thought he wouldn't be missed?

It's not right. If that's how Casey died, then his death was meaningless. Effin' meaningless.

Gregg would probably hate me if he ever heard that from me but I don't care. I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. Casey was my friend. And now he's gone, for no reason whatsoever. That's what hurts most.

Sometimes I wonder if it should have been me. Like, what would people think if Casey were still around today and it'd been me who'd died? I'm not just saying that, by the way. It's something that's been on my mind almost every day since that night in the woods. What would happen if I just disappeared one day? Would it be any different from what happened with Casey?

No-one in town reacted when he vanished. Life in Possum Springs just carried on like it always did as if nothing had changed. They tried so hard to paper over the cracks, pretending that nothing was broken. Until now.

I can see the cracks. They've been there ever since I got back. Casey's disappearance shattered this town – ripped it to pieces. It's only now that those pieces are beginning to crumble and drift away.

This is happening because of them. It's their own arrogance that's lead to this. Those people wanted to murder him, thinking he wouldn't be missed. The rest of town never even questioned it, never investigated it properly. They just kept their heads down and assumed there would be no consequences. They had no idea.

I get so down whenever I think about this. It's too sad. I keep telling myself that he can't be dead. I don't want to believe it. I don't know if I can. It feels like I'm giving up hope. Casey's parents never gave up hope that he would come back. They never took that miserable poster down. So what am I supposed to do?

I don't know if he's dead. I don't know. I don't understand any of this.

Casey, I failed you. I failed everyone. I shouldn't have left town. I should have been here for you.

I…

I'm going to stop writing now. I need some time to myself. Hope you don't mind, Futureperson.

Sorry for smudging the pages.


	6. Chapter 6

It's been a day. A whole day since the entire world started to go down the plughole. I'm still here, still sitting in my room. Sitting still, or trying to. No sudden movements.

I feel it happening around me. Some things are collapsing. Some things will surely disappear forever.

It's morning. I haven't slept all night. My head's pounding like a drum. All I can think of is the destruction of the world. Places and people vanishing in swathes. I'm still here – but for how much longer?

These sorts of thoughts – they're not the sort of thing that helps with headaches.

I dread to think of what's going on outside. More madness. Seeing it with my own eyes would almost certainly be too much to handle. So I haven't looked out of my window. I haven't even left my room since I had that dream, if that's really what it was.

For now, I think I'm safe from it all in here. This room is my sanctuary. Its walls keep me safe from what that thing showed me – the chaos that's raging on outside. I just feel bad for anyone who got caught up in it.

The whole world's really messed up. But at the very least, the passage of time remains intact, undamaged. The Sun came up this morning, I think. There are a few rays of light filtering through my window so that's my best guess. I don't like it, though. The light's way too bright. I keep having to squint to see what I'm doing. Irritating.

Wait, is it the afternoon now? I thought it was morning. Whatever. It's not like it matters.

I've been thinking about what I should do next. Things are a little crazy right now. There must be some way to fix the world – something I can do to put an end to all this. I need to do something about this before too much disappears.

I was wondering where to start, and I got to thinking about that murder cult. Their little hideout in the mines where they were all holed up. And the pit that stretches down forever – deeper and deeper, without end. The place where they sacrificed those kids.

What if I went back down there?

Trust me – I don't like the thought of going back to that den of madness. I get shivers just thinking about it. Still, it's gotta be better than sitting here and doing nothing, right? Even if I'd be playing into that monster's hands. There's a voice telling me I need to confront this thing. I can't just let it run roughshod over this whole town. Someone's got to stand up to it.

Look, I don't know how you're supposed to 'stand up' to something like that. Maybe I can find a way to put an end to all of this. Or maybe there'll be nothing I can do. Either way, I won't know unless I go.

I'm thinking I've got to go.

The only thing I haven't figured out yet is how I'd get back down there. After what happened in fall, it seems like it'd be impossible. The old entrance to the mine would've caved in after the damage the tunnels sustained. The only other way in and out of the mines was the well in Germ's back garden, and we already watched him blast it sky-high with dynamite. Which, admittedly, was pretty rad.

Maybe he could help me go back down there. I could ask if he has... more dynamite? So we can blast open a new entrance? I dunno. I'm just spitballing.

Ok, really dumb idea. If that guy keeps playing around with that stuff, he'll end up blowing his family's house to smithereens. Don't think I can deal with that resting on my conscience. Germ's family are too nice to have something like that happen to them. As weird as they come, but nice. Besides, I haven't seen him in ages and I've got no way to reach him from here. Who's to say he hasn't already disappeared? Things here have gone south real fast – maybe he already got swept away like all the others.

I don't have any other ideas. Aside from Germ, I can't think of anyone else who can help me go back. Is there anyone else?

Jeez, this light is really bothering me. Think I'm gonna do something about it – I really don't need this much. Don't wanna draw attention to myself, either. The desk lamp is all the light I need – just enough light so I can see what I'm writing.

I've thought about it some more. There is someone else – one other person who might be able to help, even if it seems like a terrible idea. That guy from Harfest. The guy who tried to grab me in the elevator shaft. He had a name. What did they say his name was?

I hate to admit it, but he's been in my head ever since that night. He's even appeared in some of the dreams I've had. It's always the same – something weird will be happening and then I'll notice him, standing off to the side. He just stands there like a scarecrow, watching me from a distance. He never moves, not even a little. It's the same old phantom act that he tried to spook us with back in fall.

Why do I keep getting drawn back to him? It's starting to feel like we're joined at the hip or something. I hate the idea of seeking his help. I want nothing to do with him – just the mere thought of him makes my skin crawl. But he might be my only option. Even though he was a part of that cult, he wasn't like the others. I always thought there was something... different about him. Like he's connected to this whole situation in a way that the rest of that cult wasn't.

He might be able to go back. He knows the way around those underground passages. Maybe he knows another way to get down there. That's assuming he isn't still trapped down there with the rest of them.

It's always possible he found a way out. I mean, he always had a habit of just _appearing_ in places. I wonder where he is now? If he escaped the mines, he might be lurking in town somewhere. Not like there's anywhere else for him to go. What if I could find him? I could go looking for him and…

God damnit. This is so hopeless.

He's _dead_ , Mae. Just like the rest of them. At least, I've gotta _assume_ he's dead. He had to be trapped underground with the rest of the cult when the mine collapsed. The last I saw of him was his freakin' severed arm before the lift came crashing down on top of him. That usually does the trick. Jerk.

Look, I'm not saying that I'm _glad_ he's dead or anything. I'm just…

I don't know what I'm saying.

Point is: it's a lost cause to go looking for him. Even if he somehow survived, why the hell would he want to _help_ me? He probably still hates our guts. Gregg sticked him with his crossbow (bet he'd still be pissed about that). Not to mention, he spent half of fall trying to scare us witless, stalking us like some sort of phantom! And also, in case I really need to remind myself, he tried to effin' _kill_ me! Even if he's the only one who can help me, something tells me I'd be better off without his help.

The whole thing still bugs me like crazy. Like, what was his problem? He started going after us long before the rest of his group got involved, almost like he had some personal vendetta against us. He was there from the very beginning. What did I do to make him hate me so much?! Not to mention, I never even found out who he was! I still can't figure it out! Was he someone we knew from town? Someone who knew us? Or just some sick bastard who gets his kicks from terrorizing and killing kids?

For that matter, how many people in Possum Springs were part of this cult? How can something like that be allowed to exist without anyone knowing about it? And what if there are more like it, inside or outside of Possum Springs? More cults? More followers? An entire network of psychopaths, worshipping a cosmic entity that wants to tear this world apart?

Just what sort of freak show have I stumbled into? Is any of this real, or some kind of twisted nightmare? How am I supposed to make sense of any of this? Where do I even start?

How the hell am I supposed to cope with this many questions?!

I never asked for any of this.

No, forget it. I'm not doing this.

I'm not going to keep entertaining these stupid ideas. I won't have that _thing_ lure me back into those mines. I'm not getting mixed up in that insanity again – that's exactly what it wants. I know it's waiting for me to go back to sleep so it can try to take hold of me. But I'm not gonna give in. It can crawl around in my head all it likes – it can't haunt my dreams if I don't sleep! Didn't think of that, did ya?

I'm not going anywhere. It'd be suicide to step outside while the world's actin' like this. It's not safe out there anymore. I'm not leaving the house until this whole thing blows over, if it ever does. Possum Springs is going down a hole. The disappearance of the murder cult of dads only accelerated things. Now, the whole world's falling apart. Even as I write this, I can feel it disintegrating all around us. It won't be long until everything we knew is gone, for good.

I'm not gonna let myself disappear. I'm riding this storm out. If there's anything left of Possum Springs once it's done, then we'll go from there. I can only hope that there'll be something left at the end of all of this.

All I can do for now is stay put and hold on. It's all I've got. As I said, no sudden movements. I need to stay out of that creature's grasp.

I'm expecting the worst. Don't think I haven't considered the possibility that it might have some more tricks up its sleeve. Whatever that thing is, it's powerful. It's still possible that it's got other followers that we didn't know about. More deranged old coots that it can send after us.

If that happens, I'll be on my own.

If they come looking for me here, well, I don't know what I'll do. I've got a weapon, if I need to use it. Not sure if it'll help much but it's better than nothing. Can't believe I've kept this thing lying around for this long. Sentimental value, I guess? Geez, I really don't know. At least it won't be some poor kid's skull getting bashed in this time – it'll be someone who deserves it.

Anyway, it's not like it's just my own safety I've got to worry about. I'm worried about my parents too. Mom and Dad. What if the cultists go after _them_ – take them as hostages or something to draw me out?

If they try to hurt Mom and Dad, then they'd better not expect any mercy from me. I'll come flyin' out of this room like a hurricane. Even if I'm outnumbered, I'll take on every last one of 'em. Heads will roll.

Who am I kidding? It probably won't be that dramatic. It's more likely things'll just vanish all at once, like a porch light being switched off.

The world is a bad place – exceptionally bad. Too much crazy stuff to process. I can't make sense of any of it anymore – it makes my head want to explode.

I hope I'm wrong about all of this. I want someone to tell me I'm wrong to see things the way I see them. But when people start to disappear from your life, vanishing overnight, what're you supposed to think? There's no-one left who can tell you you're wrong, or if you're right. Right and wrong go out of the equation.

All that's left is the chaos you can see all around you – and an emptiness inside.

* * *

The last couple of hours have been surprisingly productive – not really what I expected. It's just me in this room, after all. But I decided that if I'm gonna stay in here, I might as well do what I can to make sure I'm safe from the stuff going on outside.

I've made it so that no-one can enter this room from outside. I dug around and found a bunch of cleaning supplies that Mom must've stored in here, including this broken old broom. I propped it up against the door so that it jams the handle from the inside. Not a bad piece of handiwork, actually. I'm quite pleased with it. I also blocked up the window with some cardboard boxes so the sunlight doesn't sting my eyes anymore. Big relief. Really wish I had some blinds in here or something.

I found some other stuff while I was shoring up the defences. Stuff I'd forgotten about, or stuff Mom and Dad shifted up here when I moved away. It's mostly junk – workbooks and stuff from school, tattered old storybooks with the pages stained yellow, heaps of broken old toys. Just a bunch of dust-caked belongings I can only half-remember from my childhood. Dead matter.

I've piled it all up against the door – it's almost as tall as the door itself. At least it's serving some use as a makeshift barricade. One ugly-as-crap barricade. Yet, I think it's actually quite nice. In spite of all the bad stuff that's going down right now, the idea of all this old junk being given new life is kinda… heart-warming, almost.

I don't know if any of that makes sense to you, Futureperson.

Aside from those things, I found a few dusty boxes filled with old family photos. I spent some time flicking through a bunch of them earlier. I'm surprised how many there are. There are even a few of Granddad in there – and a few of me and him together when I was tiny.

I'm taking another look through the photos now. Some of these really take me back. There's one picture from years back where we drove up to one of the state forests for a family camping trip. I can just about remember it myself. The photo is great: I'm swinging from a tree and it looks like Dad's chasing after me while he's carrying all this heavy camping gear. I can't even remember being able to climb trees at that age! I'm having a blast but Dad looks pretty anxious about me climbing around up in the branches. He's suffering from a bad case of the Dad nerves. Then there's another photo I found of me and Mom taken after we got done setting up the tent. I remember this one pretty clearly. We're both sitting next to the fire pit, huddled together and wearing these big, goofy smiles. Kinda cute, actually.

Mom, Dad and me – we all looked so different back then. So innocent. Less worn down by the world. We haven't been camping in years. This trip we went on – it was just a moment. A single instance in time that's been and gone. Something so precious that could've disappeared forever, were it not for these photos. These photos are all that's left of it.

I don't know why we haven't put these in an album or something. Maybe I should put something together for them, seeing as they're stuck in here with me now.

Poor photos.

I didn't want to shut out Mom and Dad like this. I wish I didn't have to hide from them. I wish I could open up to them about the things that've been happening since I got back, just like when I told them about the college stuff. That wasn't all that long ago. I can't tell them about this, though. This is different. They wouldn't believe me. No sane person would believe any of this stuff.

Fall was a scary time, when I look back at it. Crazy stuff. I saw a lot of people die – all the ones who got trapped down in those mines, for sure. Not _good_ people, but people nonetheless. It's not something that you can just blot out. The dead don't like to be forgotten – they keep themselves alive in the minds of the living. Anyone who says ghosts can't exist doesn't know what they're talking about (sorry, Angus).

I tell myself I shouldn't think this, but I feel a ton of responsibility for the stuff that happened. I just don't think I can explain _why_. It feels like it's all a part of me – I can't remove myself from it.

Now that I've locked this room down, I wish I could say I feel a little better than before – just a little bit safer. But that isn't really true. Something still feels wrong. A _lot_ of things still feel wrong.

Still, transforming my room into a fort was kinda fun, I guess. I kept imagining it was wartime as I built up my defences, digging trenches while the bullets slice through the air above our heads. Old man Anselm B. would probably know something about that, if he were still with us today. Poor old geezer. God rest his hopelessly tragic soul.

In any case, it helped to pass the time. It kept me distracted for a bit. I guess I really don't have a lot of things to do right now.

But now that I look at the piles of junk by the door and my boxed-up window, the whole thing just seems sad. Like, is this _really_ the best I can do? (I don't mean my genius door-stopper.) Hiding in the attic was never going to be the noble thing to do, but I at least thought it was the _safest_ option. I'm not even sure of that anymore. I sure as heck don't feel safe in here right now.

Should I really be doing this? Is this what I'm reduced to – just hiding away from it all?

No, it's better this way. Less problems. Less hopeless, disregarded explanations. Less of those effin' looks of pity, like I'm a defective product – the sort you desperately want to chuck out but feel the need to hang onto for the sentimental value. I hate those sorts of looks. Almost as much as I hate having to resort to wait it out in here. But only slightly less.

* * *

I'm still here. Yep. Still sticking it out, all on my own.

There's really not a lot to do in here. Possum Springs is as quiet as it's ever been, but every now and then I'll hear sounds coming from outside my window. I can still hear the occasional train passing by – one of my favourite things. But right now, I hear those wonderful sounds, the clatter of the tracks and the blare of the horn (if I'm lucky) – and I feel nothing. Not a single thing. They leave me feeling colder than snow.

The only way I can find comfort is in writing this, for you. It's the only thing that puts me at ease.

I haven't bothered going online. I slipped my laptop under the bed to try and keep it out of reach. I don't want to use it right now. Even so, I can't stop thinking about the others.

Bea, Gregg, Angus – I hope they're ok. Haven't spoken to any of them for days now. Feels like I'm living on another planet to them, almost. If I ran into one of them now, I wouldn't even know what I'd say. I'm pretty sure they still want me gone.

Even if they _wanted_ to see me, I'd just end up ruining their lives somehow. I wreck everything I touch. I'm toxic. This room is my little quarantine. Perhaps I'm doing them a favour by staying in here.

I'm still worried, though. Anything could've happened to them in the time since I last saw them. Maybe they're doing fine, or maybe it got to them too. Maybe they're gone forever. I'll never get to know, either way.

Lonely. That's what this feeling is. That's what I am.

This is so messed up. How can I feel this lonely in _my own town_? It doesn't make sense. College was bad, but this might be even worse. I don't think I've ever felt this alone.

Am I always going to be this miserable, no matter what I do? If I can't be happy here, what hope is there? Where else can I go?

It wasn't meant to be like this.

I'm sorry, Futureperson. I need another break. Please don't think I've forgotten about you. I know how important this is.


	7. Chapter 7

Two days in. At least, I think it's been two days. It's pretty easy to lose track of these things.

What a long day. I'm shattered.

It's getting really hard to concentrate on the writing. I'm constantly tired. But I mustn't sleep. I dozed off a few hours ago by accident – big mistake. It was right there, waiting for me in my dreams. It tried to get me. I managed to wake up fairly quickly, thank God. But I can't go back. Might not be so lucky next time.

This whole ordeal is getting the better of me. It's exhausting, like I'm treading water in the middle of the ocean (I was never a good swimmer). I can't let up, though. Just gotta keep going – keep myself from sinking.

Mom and Dad are getting super suspicious of me now. They've been standing outside the door, asking what I'm doing and trying to coax me out. I just try to make up excuses get them to go away. Tell 'em I'm working on something, looking at stuff on the laptop, practicing bass with the headphones in – whatever it takes to get them to stay away from here. It never convinces them at first but they get the idea… eventually.

Parents can be so persistent sometimes, can't they? It's like it's hardwired into their brains, like they can't _afford_ to give up. But they need to stay away, for their own good. I don't want to involve them in this. They can't know what I've seen. They'll think I've gone mad – for good, this time. I can't let them see me like this.

Obviously, my excuses are BS. I haven't done any of the things I told them. No energy, no desire, no time. The only thing I want to do is to keep writing this. At this point, it's the only thing that matters.

Now that that's out of the way…

There's something I need to say. It's going to hurt but I need to write it here – or this was all meaningless.

I've had some time to think about things. It's clear to me now: everything that's happened since Fall has been my fault. I'm responsible for this disaster.

Don't get me wrong – the cultists and the thing they worship: they're _real_. I didn't make them kidnap and kill. I didn't make them do what they did to Casey. But I'm the one who exposed them. Because of me, their sordid little operation came crashing down around them – literally.

This whole thing with the cult was already messed up enough as it was. When we found out what they were getting up to in those mines, it blew my mind. I didn't think the situation could get any more dire than it already was. But because of what happened, I've actually made things _worse_. I've provoked the beast. The thing they worshipped – it wants revenge. I've felt its anger. Now its wrath will consume this whole town – my whole world and anyone who was a part of it.

Even worse, I dragged my friends into this. Bea, Gregg and Angus: I made them targets of the beast. It's gone after them too – I'm sure of it. That's why they've disappeared. I don't think I'll ever see them again.

It's all because I came back. Things might've been different if I'd stayed away – if I hadn't dropped out of college and come back to this place. I thought it'd be ok to come home, but I was wrong. So much has changed while I was gone.

I shouldn't be here at all.

It's tough right now, Futureperson. Tough not to feel absolutely worthless.

Ever since I shut myself away, I've been sitting in this exact same spot. Most of the time, I barely even want to move. I'll pass the time by writing this or drawing more pictures. Then, after a while, I'll switch off the desk lamp so that it gets dark – so dark I struggle to see what's around me. And I'll just sit in the darkness and cry – bawl my eyes out for a bit. When I'm done, I'll stay sitting there for what feels like hours, thinking about all sorts of things. Most of the time, I just wish the thoughts would stop. But I can't make them.

None of this is unfamiliar to me, of course. I've been here before – it's my college days all over again. It's almost like I never left. Pathetic.

Mom and Dad did their best for me. They tried to help. When I spoke to them about college, that was supposed to be the end of it. No more living in the past. Draw a line under it and move on. And for a while, I thought it was starting to work out. I thought I could leave all my problems behind me. But while so much of the stuff going on around me has changed, I've kept all my problems and baggage. I brought it all back with me.

Damn it.

 **I hate this!**

What the hell am I doing, shutting myself away in here? Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

This is so dumb. It's like what people did when Casey disappeared. I'm doing the same thing – just sticking my fingers in my ears and hoping my problems go away. Locking my door and hiding away in here. I swore to myself I'd never go back to living like this. Yet, here I am: huddled away in my cave like some demented, old witch.

I feel like such a coward. Have I just given up?

There's a voice screaming at me to do something about this. But what else can I do? It's too late to change course now. Too much time has passed – too much time spent doing nothing. I've given that thing too much space and it's _still_ wreaking havoc. Now there's barely anything left. The world is all wrong.

I'm struggling to keep writing this. So tired. My eyes are like roasting coals. I might go blind if I keep this up. That would be unfortunate, even though it'd probably complete the 'dishevelled hermit' look I've got going on here. So that's something, I guess.

Seriously though, I've been so focused on keeping myself safe from the outside world. When things started going to shit, it seemed like the best thing to do. But I'm starting to realise that the real enemy is right here. It's my mind – my thoughts. I can't escape them in here. It's like they're swimming circles in my head, beating on the inside of my skull constantly. Trying to break out, while I'm trapped here with them.

I've turned this room into a prison – a place with just enough room for me and my guilty conscience, and nothing else. There's not even an Aunt Mall Cop to come visit me in my cell. And I've got no-one to blame but myself. This was my choice. Honestly, it's probably what I deserve.

The world is such a lonely place. There's no-one here anymore.

But at least I still have you.

* * *

Yes. At least I still have you, dearest reader from a future world.

Thank God I still have you.

Futureperson, I wish I could've gotten to know you a little better. I wish I could've met you face-to-face. You seem cool. After all, you read everything I wrote. You're even reading what I'm writing now, at this very moment. I know I've said it before, but that really takes my breath away. To think that you _care_ this much. You're the only one that makes me feel like what I'm doing is worthwhile. The only one who can remind me that I have a reason to keep caring.

You make me feel special.

I'm looking back at the pictures I drew of you. Pages and pages of pictures, and I'm still drawing more. I've got a pile of loose sheets I'm using 'cause I ran out of space in the journal. When I'm not drawing, I'll pore over the ones I've already drawn. I spend so much time looking at them – looking into your eyes. I can lose myself in these for hours at a time.

So many pictures. So many possible 'yous'. So many more to draw, though I think I've covered most of the bases with what I've got already.

It got me wondering which one of these pictures looks most like the 'actual you'. I think I'm getting closer with each new one I draw, but I can't say for sure. Besides, there's something about the 'mystery' of your identity that I can't resist. Not to say that I don't have some favourites among my versions. I'm not much of an artist but I made you look really quite cute in some of these, y'know?

Sorry, I'm not very good at this.

Alright, I'll come out with it.

I'm obsessed with you. Totally, completely obsessed. I openly admit it – not that it was much of a secret, anyways.

I know it must seem odd to you. I mean, I've never even met you. You might as well be some stranger online. But even though I can only _guess_ what you look like, I can't stop thinking about you. The strength of these feelings I have for you – it's almost a little embarrassing. It doesn't even matter that I can't hear your voice – you don't need to say anything. The mere thought of you is enough to drive me wild. Whenever you're on my mind, I get shivers down my spine. For real. That's kind of freaky, right?

Do I freak you out, Futureperson? You freak me out a little, for sure. In a good way, I think. A way I haven't felt before.

I think I know what this is. It's pure infatuation. That's got to be it – that _has_ to be what this is! Why would I spend so much time thinking about you, drawing these pictures, if I wasn't falling for you? If I'm not **head-over-heels in love**?

You probably think I'm joking. It's a little dumb, sure, but I don't mind telling you any of this. There's a distance between us: author and reader. Past and future. It's totally ok for me to say these things about you. Sometimes, I feel I can close that distance – cross the divide. I can even feel you here with me right now. That is so wonderful. To me, that's real magic. That's witchcraft.

Hehehehehe!

Oh Futureperson. You're making me act the fool.

I didn't think it was possible to feel this way about someone you've never met. Someone you barely know and only have a fleeting impression of. But I sometimes wonder if our connection goes further than this silly old diary – further than just 'author and reader'. I believe we're connected on a much deeper level, somehow.

You have a power over me, Futureperson. That's the truth of it. You have me under your spell. I'm enthralled – powerless to resist. And yet I wonder what it's like to have that kind of power over someone?

It's hopeless. You're such a dreamboat. And you're oh so generous with your time.

Though, sometimes, I think you can be cruel too. Good thing you're a total heart-throb, or I might think you're actually a total jerk.

I get the feeling you enjoy this distance between us. This way, you can keep your thoughts hidden from me, while continuing to give me the silent treatment. It suits you but I'm not happy about it. I'm pouring my heart out to you over here. You know every single one of my thoughts, yet I don't even know what you think of me. Seems almost unfair.

All the same, I get the sense you must still be at least _slightly_ interested. You're still reading this. Whenever I'm writing, I feel your eyes on me – I feel them and it makes my heart rush like I've just run a mile. I wish I had more to go on. I wish I could hear what your voice sounds like.

There's another thing that's bothering me: I want to know why you haven't come to visit me yet. Like, what gives? You're from the future – hasn't your future civilization already invented time travel? What's stopping you from taking a trip back to come visit me?

I keep sitting here, waiting for the moment you to magically pop into existence in front of me and take me away to the future with you. I think of all the things we could do together, like going on adventures across space. Exploring unknown planets and hunting deadly aliens: the sort of things people in the future get up to, I'll bet.

Even now, I wait for you to appear here in front of me. I've worked myself up so much, I'm _expecting_ it to happen. It would be the most awesome thing. But it hasn't happened yet.

Not to say it mightn't happen if I write just a few more lines…

Am I giving you ideas, Futureperson?

Still waiting.

Ok, you win. Time isn't exactly on my side right now. How ironic.

Still, even if you can't be here with me right now, I'm still grateful for you. You've done so much to help me through all of this. If things ever calm down, I will need to repay you somehow.

Oh Futureperson. You deserve better than this. But things have gotten so difficult. You must be the only thing keeping me from going mad right now.

* * *

Day 8. Still going strong.

Just kidding. That was a joke, just in case it wasn't clear. I haven't _actually_ locked myself in here for a whole week, though you could tell me otherwise and I'd probably believe you. Feels like I've spent half my damn life in here.

Oh. I _did_ do that, didn't I?

Wow. I can be such a dummy sometimes – a lot of times. It's a real talent of mine.

I'm not feeling too hot right now. Honestly, I've barely even got the energy to be writing this. It's been this way for a while. Feelin' kinda weak. Dizzy. Vision's playing up.

That last bit creeps me out the most. I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. Sometimes I'll see things moving in the shadows. There'll be moments where I spot a movement and I'll seize up, thinking it's real. Only way I can tell it isn't real is 'cause it doesn't make noise when it moves. Just a vision – a silent projection of the mind.

It shakes me up a little whenever it happens. But it's not just that – there's something much worse. It's only just started happening. Sometimes when I blink, I'll start seeing these vague, distorted forms appearing in the corners of my vision. The same ones that appear in my dreams, crawling around like ants.

Shapes.

They're faint, but I'm not imagining them. At first, there were only a few of them – pale little specks that remind me of dust motes. But over the past few hours, they've multiplied in number. They're growing bigger too, becoming more solid. They're massing like an invading army, preparing to bear down on me from all directions.

All I want to do is shut my eyes to keep them out. But if I do that, I can't write. I've got no choice here. Can't hold my breath or won't be able to breathe. It's an impossible situation.

I think I know where this is going. It's happening all over again.

I had a bad spell earlier and had to lay down in bed for a while. Not sleeping, of course – just staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to clear. I was lying right next to my boxed-up window when I noticed something moving. Out of the corner of my eye, through the gap in the boxes I stacked up, I could see things swimming through the air just outside the window. Tiny blobs of yellowish light. Shapes.

Right after that happened, I heard a train go past outside. The sound of it was like a bolt of lightning going through me – it was so sudden. A ghost of the past. I had a moment where I just wanted to rip those boxes down and look at the world outside. But I knew I couldn't. I couldn't make myself do it. I was too scared. I knew what I would see: it'd just be shapes – all of it. A long carriage of shapes, rolling off into the distance.

Just the thought of it makes me want to cry.

What's happening to me? Things are just getting worse and worse. I really don't think any of this is gonna last much longer.

Why am I doing this?

I've been thinking about this diary a lot. Seriously, why did I start writing this thing? There are times where I swear I struggle to remember the actual reason. Even now, I'm not sure what the reason was. Was it to give me a way to vent? To make my thoughts come across clearer? To get some answers?

Some good that did. This hasn't helped one bit. Everything is just as warped and intangible as before.

How am I supposed to make sense of anything that happens in this world anymore?

Is this just a cry for help? Is anyone even listening?

No, of course not. None of them can reach me now. You're the only one who can.

The whole world's gone away, Futureperson. It's just you and me now.

* * *

I think I might die in here.

Like, literally, just keel over. Bite the dust. Give up the ghost.

Stab myself in the throat with this pen. Die of blood poisoning, 'cuz I can't do anything right.

Yeesh, Mae. That's a little morbid, even for you.

Whatever. It's my brain. I'll think all the disgusting, morbid thoughts I want. And I'll write about 'em, too! You can shove your thought police.

In all seriousness, death is just one of those things that's always on my mind these days. It's been with me all winter.

I sometimes think about how it'll end for me – how I'll go out. Some people would call that an 'unhealthy preoccupation'. I don't really see it that way. When you think about an end, it helps you to focus on the stuff that came before, and the things to come. It helps to put everything in perspective. Quite often, I find it helps me to concentrate. In that sense, it's very healthy. Or at least, y'know, natural.

Hopefully you see where I'm coming from with this.

It's a crazy old world. Vast. Incomprehensible. So backwards that you get people, perfectly ordinary people, who end up losing their minds from it. Some of them even end up taking their own lives. How insane is that? I know it's always been that way but it's still seems ridiculous to me. I mean, talk about a design flaw.

Don't misunderstand me – I'm not tryin' to be disrespectful or anything by saying that. I was just thinking in a broader sense. People make their own choices about stuff like that, right?

If there's one thing I'm certain about, it's that I'll never do myself in. Even if things were to get really, really bad, I can't see it happening. Not my style. If I _do_ go out, it'll be from doing something stupid.

I guess you could say it'd be true to form.

Still, I suppose death is a little scary when you think about it _too_ hard. For me, dying isn't the scary part – it's the idea of disappearing. Vanishing without a trace. Going from something to nothing – that's what _really_ spooks me.

I didn't always think like this. I used to be a lot less certain of these kinds of things. But I think Fall changed that. I've seen it with my own eyes. A lot of folks have died – a lot have disappeared. Gone forever, it seems.

I can't let the same thing happen to me. Even when it feels like I'm fading, I know I can't let myself disappear yet. It's no good disappearing if you don't leave a part of yourself behind. And I'm still working on mine.

That's what this is all about, Futureperson. This is what _you're_ about. You must know that.

I often wonder what my part in all of this is: why I was born, what I'm doing with my life, what my purpose on this planet is. But you – it's all too clear what your role is. You have a clarity of purpose that makes me envious.

You understand what you're doing by reading this diary, right? My thoughts and feelings – they're all yours now. By reading, you're preserving them. You're preserving _me_. It doesn't matter what's going on outside this house. If I vanish, a part of me will live on with you. It's like black magic – my witch's incantation.

I can die right now. Maybe I will – I'm going the right way about it. But even if it happens, I won't disappear completely. Because of you, dear reader, I'll live on in my words.

Conditional immortality.

I don't want to die, Futureperson (as if that needed stating). But no matter what happens, I'll still have you. That makes me feel a lot better about all of this – a little less frightened.

I don't know if I'll ever meet you. It seems a bit late for that now. But if this really is the end, I'm glad you're here for it.

* * *

Futureperson, I did something bad.

I fell asleep again. I was drawing some more pictures of you and lost track of time (it happens a lot). I got super low on energy and it got too difficult to keep my eyes open. Before I knew what was happening, I was already dreaming.

The dream itself was different from the others. That creature wasn't there. No cultists, no shapes. Actually, there was nothing there at all. Everything was darkness and I could sense that I was falling. It seemed to go on forever – just falling endlessly. The only thing I remember thinking is that I would never hit the ground, no matter how far I fell. I felt totally helpless.

But that wasn't all. When I woke up, things had changed.

At first, I thought something was wrong with my eyes. It gets really dark in here, even with the desk lamp switched on. Usually, my eyes are able to adapt to the dark after a while. But this time, it was like they didn't adjust properly. My room was just a mess of distortions and shadows. Nothing looked the way it should. I started to panic a little. I had to tell myself to be calm and let it correct itself.

As things came into focus, I saw what was wrong. The whole room was full of shapes. They were all around me, twisting and obscuring everything. I was completely surrounded. For a while, I had no idea where I was. I was confused and lost. And I got really, really scared.

Something inside me just snapped. I think I just lost my mind. I only remember bits and pieces of what happened next. Stumbling around. Falling over myself. Shrieking and clawing the walls. Yeah – definitely not my finest moment.

Actually, it gets worse than that.

Paranoia kicked in – I could feel them closing in on me from all angles. I needed to defend myself, so I started looking for my baseball bat. However, I couldn't remember where I'd left it. All I can remember is scrambling around on the ground, looking for it amongst a sea of shapes. The whole time, I couldn't see where I was going. Eventually my hands closed around something that felt a little bit like the handle of the bat. The bat itself was heavier and had a more club-like shape from what I could remember, but I didn't really think about it at the time. I was desperate. I grabbed the neck with both hands and went to town. Swinging at the air and the walls and anything in-between.

I totally wrecked my room. And I wrecked my 'weapon' too. I swung so hard that the neck broke off in my hands. At that point, I just gave up. I collapsed in a heap and waited for the moment to pass. It was only when I started to cool down that I thought it was weird that a baseball bat would have a 'neck'. And... strings.

That's when I realised: it wasn't my bat that I'd been swinging. It was my bass guitar.

Yep. This is why you can't have nice things, Mae. Because you're an effin' psychopath.

Eventually, it all cleared up. The shapes receded and I could see more clearly. I saw all the stuff I smashed up. And I just slumped. I was completely spent. I was hurt and angry and feeling all kinds of down. Just kinda… defeated.

I'm feeling a little better now – a little shaken-up but otherwise fine. I'm just worried it'll come back. It's always possible. Still, I figured I was probably going to snap at some point. I could sense it building up – it was only a matter of time before I was gonna let loose somehow. Can't be helped. Sometimes you just gotta let it all out. Relax the valve a little – the crazy valve.

There are only two positive points about the outburst: no-one got hurt, and Mom and Dad didn't seem to hear it. I'm not sure how they could've missed something like that. I think they might've been out.

I warned them not to go outside – too dangerous. But it's not like I could stop them from trying it. I'm powerless in here. This room feels more like a prison than ever.

I just hope they come back.

At least my baseball bat survived the rampage. It's still in one piece. I still have a weapon – something I can use to defend us if those cultists reappear.

God, who am I kidding? What are the chances I'd be able to protect myself in this state? I'd just do what I did before – I'd lash out at nothing like a frightened animal. I'd do more damage to the walls than anything else.

I'm doomed.

So that's basically what happened, Futureperson. When all's said and done, I'm all alone again, minus one bass guitar in a smashed-up room. Though it could've been worse, I guess. I could've done anything while I was in that state – could've thrown myself out of the window.

I'm really torn up about the bass, though. It didn't deserve a death like this. I've got to be the worst owner ever. Though I bet it must've looked super cool at the time when I was swinging that thing. Wish I could remember it properly. I can imagine it looking so hardcore – like a scene from the most intense rock and roll gig ever.

Minus the music.

And the audience.

And the hordes of groupies waiting backstage.

Oh crap. I've made such a mess. Mom's gonna kill me when she sees this, if she comes back. They've been gone a while. I still don't know where they are.

Please come back.

* * *

Day 6724.

This is really starting to take its toll on me. It's almost unbearable. I feel like a zombie. So tired. Soooo hungry.

ohgoddon'tthinkaboutfood idiot

Mom and Dad came back. Thank God they're safe. But now they keep knocking on my door, tryin' to get me to come out. They sound worried. Still, I've gotta do everything I can to keep them out of my room. I keep telling 'em I'm busy but I'm running out of excuses fast. I piled up some more stuff by the door too, most of it broken now.

They won't quit. They're so insistent that I open the damn door to let them in. They just don't get it at all. Can't they see I'm trying to keep them safe? Why can't they understand I'm trying to _protect_ them from this?

I wish they would stop it with the knocking. Every time I hear a knock on the door, I think it's one of those cultists come to get me. It's dumb, I know. They'd have to be the most well-mannered kidnapper in the world to try that. But that's all I visualise whenever I hear a knock: a bunch of them rushing in and seizing me. Dragging me back underground. Hauling me above their heads and chucking me down the hole. Falling.

That's how it ends.

Something is happening to the world outside. Sometimes it feels like the whole damn room is shaking. I don't know what's causing it. Another sinkhole? Or something worse?

I think I'm going crazy in here, Futureperson. Losing my mind. Everything has gone dark.

The headaches are back. They're even worse than before. Hurts bad. Feels like my skull is gonna split open.

I thought I would last longer than this. But I don't think I can take much more.

Granddad – I think you were right all along.

You're gonna be ok, Mae.

You're gonna be ok.

You'll be ok.

* * *

Goddamn piece of crap goat thing. Whatever you are.

Those were my friends.

This is my home.

You can't take this away from me!

* * *

I can't stay here anymore.

Not gonna keep sitting here, waiting to disappear.

This is too much.

This needs to stop.

But if I can give myself up to make this stop

maybe it'll be worth something

Mom

Dad

I'm sorry

it

calls

us

back

to


	8. Chapter 8

Hi.

Mae Borowski here.

M'duh. I mean, who else could it be?

I'm still alive. Just thought I should get that bit out of the way first.

It's been three whole days since I last wrote anything here. Yeah, I've missed a few days – something I promised I wouldn't do. I didn't have much of a choice, given the circumstances. I'm hoping I'm not out of practice with this.

I'm feeling a little better now, at least. Things are still rough right now but I'm a lot better than I was, honestly.

I know my last entry left things… incomplete. Oh boy.

I'm still trying to come to terms with what happened. If felt like the entire world had turned upside-down. Without wanting to sound too dramatic, I think I was teetering on the verge of a major nervous breakdown or something.

I guess I should explain what happened after I wrote that last entry, or what I remember of it (which isn't much, if I'm honest).

I had a lot of different thoughts going through my head at the time, most of it nonsense. But I did have this one main idea – I was gonna go back into the woods by myself. I don't really know what I was hoping to achieve in doing that. It was stupid but that was my plan.

At some point, I vaguely recall unblocking the door and barging out of my room. I ran down the stairs and straight out the front door. Everything after that is fuzzy, at best. I'm sort of working backwards for most of this.

My only guess about what happened is that I must have taken a wrong turn as soon as I was out the front door. It's not like I've ever been good with directions, even in regular situations. Considering the state I was in when I wrote that last entry, I'd be surprised if I could see where I was walking. I was as blind as a bat.

I ended up wandering to the bridge out towards the highway. I don't know what time it was. I think it was dark but, as I said, that coulda just been my eyes playing tricks on me. It doesn't seem like anyone saw me leave. Except for Rabies, perhaps. He might've seen me roaming around in his turf. 'That's one confused mammal' – that's what I bet he thought to himself.

And that's the last thing I remember. Everything between that point and the moment I woke up is completely black.

I owe everything to Bea, my saviour and protector. She's the one who rescued me. She found me passed out in the sewer pipe under the bridge. Yeah, I somehow ended up in there. I guess I'd gotten lost and crawled into there to get out of the cold. Can't even say how long I was there for.

Bea managed to fish me out of there. I don't remember a whole lot about it, but she filled me in.

It was a pretty sticky situation. According to her, the ground was waterlogged from the snow that'd melted over the past few days. She said I was resting against the wall of the pipe, lying on my side in a shallow pool of muddy water that came up to my shoulder. I was lucky I didn't get hypothermia, apparently. I also looked like a dead person, doubly apparently.

Note to self: sleeping in a puddle isn't fun.

Anyway, it's only after I woke up when I start to remember things. I still recall the moment I saw Bea. She was looking down at me, her eyes wide with shock. I can tell she hadn't been expecting to see me like that. I think that's the closest I've ever heard Bea come to screaming.

I can't remember exactly how I reacted in response. I guess I was pretty startled too, but I was sorta delirious at the time. I wasn't with it. I think I thought I was still in my room and not in some filthy sewer pipe. All I can remember saying something really dumb – 'I'm decent!' or something like that. Hahaha!

Suffice to say, this wasn't how I was expecting our reunion to play out.

Getting back was tough. I was too weak to walk back home. I was numb all over and could barely move. Not only that, I could tell I'd done something to my leg. I'm guessing I fell over on the slope leading down from the bridge and took a tumble down the bank. I couldn't walk on it without support. It still hurts now, even though I've had a couple of days to rest it. But Bea was amazing. She single-handedly carried me out of that pipe and all the way back home. If she hadn't been there, I could've ended up like one of those bums who drowned when the tunnel flooded.

I'm lucky to be alive – I realise that.

Bea saved me. Just like Mom and Dad did a few days ago.

Saved twice in the space of a few days. Phew. Crazy winter.

I'm taking it easy right now. The last couple of days have been spent resting. I've barely left my bed. My room is still a complete mess. It's like some hulking giant came across a landfill and kicked it over. Honestly, I'm getting sick of having to look at it. I can't wait till I can get out of here properly, if only for a little bit.

The first two days were rough. I was in need of some proper rehabilitation. Even now, I'm not really eating anything substantial. Mom hadn't known I wasn't eating anything that whole time. Even after Bea brought me back home, I still didn't want to eat anything – just felt like it was gonna come back up straight away. Food's just something I'm having to take slowly, like everything else. I've had the odd bad dream too, though nothing as horrible as the ones I had when I was in freak-out mode.

Mom had to spend a couple of days at home to take care of me. It's not what I wanted at all. I felt like a real piece of shit for dragging her away from church, especially after what I did to my room. Not to mention how much I scared her and Dad by disappearing on them. After all of that, it sure doesn't make me feel like any less of a burden when she's tasked with nursing duty.

It made me miserable. I was pissed off at myself. I told myself over and over that I was a terrible daughter. I wanted Mom to be doing what she wants to do, not sitting around here and looking after me. Still, she insisted on staying by my side. It was only the second day when I had this massive realisation: that this _IS_ what she wants to do. It'd never occurred to me before: she's not just willing, but _glad_ to be nursing her kid back to health.

Knowing that she feels that way made me feel better too, but I won't pretend to understand the thinking behind it. Parent stuff, huh?

Still, it feels like I'm a bit too old for all of this. At what age does it stop being cool to have your own mother looking after you when you're ill? Purely rhetorical question, by the way. No need for anyone to answer that.

Anyway, I've swapped her for Bea now. She took time out of work this morning to come over and check up on me. Mom was gonna stay home again but Bea managed to convince her that she'd be able to handle me. I was pretty pleased about that. Mom's finally off the hook – praise the Lord!

Of course, she would've known I was in safe hands. Bea is so dependable, and very convincing. She's been looking after me all day. I'm feeling a lot better than I was, but I still need help with a few things. Bea is so helpful – she does a good job. I imagine this must be like caring for her Dad. She's probably had a lot of practice at this.

Personally, I've had a great time today. It's been a riot here, the two of us.

Well, not exactly. I'm still some way off 100% strength. I've only been half-there for most of the day and some bits are still fuzzy. I think my brain is working overtime to patch itself up. Bea's been doing her best to keep me calm. The vibe has mostly been relaxed – nothing too crazy. Somewhere between 'chill' and 'sedate', for sure. But damn, I can't describe how good it is to speak to her again. It feels like it's been years since we were last together, when it only could've been two weeks tops.

Bea obviously has a lot of questions for me. What I was doing in that sewer pipe, what I've been up to for the past week or so, why my room looks like a bomb went off, why my poor bass guitar is in several pieces.

Maybe I'll tell her about it at some point. But not right now. It'll be tough to explain it to her, that's for sure.

I have questions of my own but I'm still a little spaced out right now. Tomorrow, hopefully, I'll get some answers.

This has been a rough week.

* * *

One other thing: I know I shouldn't have done it, but I just looked back at those entries – the ones I wrote while I was locked in here. It was on my mind and curiosity got the better of me.

I can't believe I did this. Like, what the shit? How could I write something like that? Almost all of it is a bunch of deranged nonsense. Anyone reading it would probably think I was playing some sick joke on them. None of it seems real. Don't get me started on those pictures…

I want to destroy it all – everything I wrote and drew while I was in meltdown. My very first instinct was to rip those pages out, tear them to shreds and burn them so that nothing remains. Part of me still wants to do that.

But I can't. As disturbing as they are, it's better for me to keep them intact. I already promised myself I wouldn't erase anything I write here – no takebacks. It's for my good – no-one else's.

It's pretty clear I have some serious issues – things that should've been resolved but weren't. It's time to own them and do something about it. I need to deal with this.

* * *

YES!

I've got some exciting news: Bea and I are sick to death of this 'effin season and everything it stands for. We've decided we're going to do things our way from now on. We're not gonna sit back and let Winter get us down.

What does this mean? It means…

ROADTRIP!

That's right, we're actually doing it! The bandit queens of Possum Springs are going on a road trip – the same one I suggested at the end of Fall. It's happening sooner than expected, too. This isn't something we were considering doing this until next year, but I spoke to Bea about it today and we've agreed that we both need a vacation. She's looking to see if she can get someone to cover for her at work while she's gone. Her Dad's also insisted that he'll be ok by himself for a few days – I think he actually kinda _wants_ her to take a break from things. She's got other obligations too, but I guess the general idea is to us to slip out while things are quiet for Winter.

So it's actually happening! This shit is so hype!

We've talked it over together. The plan is for us to head out west, probably just as far as the state border for starters. From there, we'll see how we're feeling. I can see us heading cross-state further west – make more of a trip out of it. Still, I doubt we'll be away for too long.

I told Mom and Dad about our plan. Still, I expected them to straight-up refuse. I thought it would cause some trouble. But the weird thing is, they're actually fine with it.

I mean, I am _technically_ an adult now. I guess they can only stop me from doing so much. I think they just want someone watching me to make sure I'm not alone. I can understand that. I know they'd do it if they could, but they've got things to do – bills to pay and all that jazz. But they can safely assume I'll be ok, so long as Bea's with me. Good ol' reliable Bea.

It's kinda hilarious to me. I would've expected any parent to be sceptical when you announce that your friend is taking you on a road trip just after you've been ill. But 'cause it's Bea, they barely bat an eyelid. Just as I said: super dependable, super convincing.

I can be convincing too. I managed to play up to Mom and Dad. I just put on a brave face and pretended that I'm mostly better. In reality, I'm not there yet. I don't know exactly how long it'll take to get better, but that's beside the point.

The point is: we're going on tour! Brace yourself, world. You do not know what you have unleashed!

I'm just kidding. In all honesty, I don't expect it to be anything _too_ wild – unless the car breaks down and we have to relocate to the woods and live like savages. That would be rad.

Maybe if we were both at full strength, we'd get up to some crazy stuff. We're both shattered, though. And honestly, I think Bea needs this as much as I do.

Turns out she hasn't had a great week either.

She was telling me all about it today. Actually, according to her, she told me half of this stuff yesterday. I... must have missed that?

She's desperate to get away from it all. Business hasn't been good at The Ol' Pickaxe, even though this is usually one of the busiest times of the year for them. Sales have been so poor, the only thing that's been sustaining the business are the occasional callout. But even they have become less frequent, she says, at a time when they should be inundated with calls.

I guess it makes sense – there's always a reason for these sorts of things. It's pretty obvious to both of us what's happened. A lot of their old customers, well, they're gone now. Vanished. That's just the world we live in, I guess.

She's been working late most days, standing behind the desk and waiting for someone to come in through the damn door. Sounds like literal torture. And that's just the day-to-day running of the store. She's got a ton of stuff she needs to do. Finances. Attending endless meetings with the council. Shopping. Housework. Paperwork. Work, work, work.

She's worried that her Dad's health might get worse if this cold keeps up. She kept saying over and over. I still think she's worrying a little too much about that stuff. Regardless, I guess none of us know exactly what the future will bring.

She hasn't had time to do anything she wanted to do. No internet, no parties, no life. No time to catch up with me, or anyone else. On top of all that, she said she's been having these recurring nightmares. I think the stress must be getting to her. She's gonna fall ill too if she doesn't take a break at some point. No sense in working yourself into the grave.

This is gonna save us. Tomorrow, we'll be coasting along without a care in our heads. I'm trying not to get too excited about it or there's no way I'll sleep tonight.

I'm looking forward to getting out of the house. I've been cooped up in here for way too long. If I spend any more time here, I might end up forgetting what the outside world looks like. That said, I've been making sure to check outside my window from time to time, just to see if anything's changed. Possum Springs seems pretty much the same – it's all still there. Just the same old home I've always known, and the trains still pass by every day. Nothing's disappeared, except the snow, funnily enough. It's all melted away, just like Bea said. How odd.

I really, really hope it doesn't snow again this winter.

It's going to be weird leaving this place, even if it's just for a few days. I'm sorta nervous about it myself, shooting away from home so soon after what happened. I'm hoping to God that I don't have another episode like that while I'm away from home. But I think it's all gonna be ok. I have Bea – and she's home enough.

Anyway, I'm done with my preparation. I've packed a few things to take with us. We're leaving tomorrow at midday so I've gotta get some sleep. Don't know how I'm gonna be up in time.

I decided I'm going to take this diary with me. I'm gonna try to keep the entries going. I'm not sure if I'll have enough time to write as much as I usually do while we're on the move, but I'll write something. I can't afford to miss something as big as this.

Tomorrow is a new day, and it's gonna be awesome!

* * *

 **Author's notes:**

 **Wherever possible, I always like to write out a dialogue transcript for scenes that Mae refers to in her story - mostly just as a bit of fun.**

 **As a little extra, I thought I'd share this excerpt of one I wrote for a scene where Bea stumbles across Mae hiding in the sewer pipe below the bridge. Hope you enjoy!**

Slowly and with trepidation, Bea ventures deeper into the darkness of the sewer pipe. She spots an unconscious Mae lying on the ground next to the inner wall of the pipe.

Bea – (shrieks)

Mae – (mumbles incoherently) B-Bea?

Bea – Holy shit Mae, what are you doing in here?!

Mae – (muffled) I-I'm d-decent!

Bea – W-What?

Mae – I-I said I'm d-decent!

Bea – You are NOT 'decent'! Not even close!

Mae – (slurred) I'm not? I-I didn't know. Oh G-God, this is s-so embarrassing...

Bea – Just shut up. We need to get you out of here. Can you get up?

Mae – Mm n-not sure.

Bea – (goes to lift Mae up) Jesus, your skin is like ice!

Mae – Heheh, I'ma ice queen...

Bea – Your leg's messed up too. We need to get you out of here. The whole town's wondering where you got to.

Mae – Y-you m-mean, i-it's s-s-still there?

Bea – Huh? What are you talking about?

Mae – I-I t-thought…

Bea – How did you even end up in here? Have you been drinking?

Mae – N-No way. I think. Don't 'member...

Bea – Mae, you can't stay here. I'm taking you home. If you can't move, then I'll drag you.

Mae – B-But that... m-might be the... best thing for m... e-ever...

Bea – Oh for the love of God, stop mumbling like that. I don't want you to die before we get back.

Mae – O-Ok.

Bea – (leans down) I'm going to try and help you up. If it hurts, just make a noise or something.

Mae – S-Sure.

(Bea lifts Mae up off the ground, supports her with one arm under her shoulders)

Bea – Alright, we'll take this slowly. Just one step at a time…

(they walk forward together for a few paces)

Mae – Aaaa-aaaaaah!

Bea – What's wrong?! Does it hurt?

Mae – I-I-I think I r-remembered something!

Bea – ...Can it wait until we get back?

Mae – M-Maybe.

Bea – Good.

(The two of them walk out of the sewer pipe together)

Mae – S-so, h-how's life?

Bea – Ugh. Don't go there.

Mae – T-that bad, huh?

Bea – We'll talk about it later, if you really want to know.

Mae – I-I'm actually d-dying to know.

Bea – We'll share stories. You're clearly having a rough winter, too.

Mae – I thought the world was ending.

Bea – No shit?

Mae – I r-really thought it was all g-gone, y'know?

Bea – I get those kinds of thoughts too, sometimes. Dreams and stuff.

Mae – It f-felt real at the time. Like, r-really real...

Bea – Shhh. It's ok. Everything is going to be fine.

(They walk along the riverbed and turn up towards the bank)

Mae – I shouldn't have let myself get so worked up about this.

Bea – About the world ending?

Mae – I s-spooked myself so b-bad, I almost got m-myself killed.

Bea – Now that you mention it, that is a little bit strange.

Mae – H-Huh?

Bea – I always got the impression that something like that wouldn't affect you. That if the world ever looked like it was going to end, you'd be the one person who _wouldn't_ completely lose their mind over it. You'd probably just take it in your stride. Honestly, there's something about the way you approach earth-shattering revelations that makes me sort of envious.

Bea - Not in this case, obviously.

Mae – I've lost my touch.

Bea – Clearly.

(The two of them climb up the riverbank together, walking through the trees)

Mae – By the way, do you remember my really old bass?

Bea – The one you were carting around at high school? You've still got that old thing?

Mae – N-Not anymore. Smashed it up.

Bea – Huh? Why?

Mae – Self-defence.

Bea – Self-defence?

Mae – It m-made sense at the time.

Bea – Well, at least it lived a good life.

Mae – Rest in p-pieces.

(The two go quiet for a few moments as they continue to climb the riverbank)

Bea – You still with me?

Mae – Y-yeah.

Bea – Good. Not much further to go now.

Mae – Bea?

Bea – Yeah? What is it?

Mae – It's good to see you again.

Bea – ...Yeah. You too. It's been one hell of a month.

Mae – Y-You're tellin' me.

(They reach the top of the riverbank)

Bea – I think we're getting close. Hang in there, Mae!


	9. Chapter 9

Our journey begins. We're finally on the move! Just like our scouting days, Mayday and Beebee are making tracks once again!

Truth be told, we got off to a slow start. I almost overslept this morning and was scrambling around trying to get everything together. I only barely had time to say goodbye to Mom before rushing out the front door with all the stuff I was carrying. I'm lucky Bea didn't end up leaving without me.

It took us a while to get out of town. Even though most of the snow's cleared, a lot of the roads out of Possum Springs are still icy. Bea had to take it really slowly in some places. It was such a massive buzzkill. Still, it was impressive watching her drive. Some stretches of road were like a skating rink, but I never once thought we were gonna tip over or anything. She's got this lightning focus when it comes to danger spots and she handles those turns like a pro. Looked kinda stressful for her, though – I'm not gonna lie.

It took us longer than expected to get away from town. Thankfully, it got a lot easier once we reached the main highways. Hell, I was practically up in my seat and cheering as we pulled onto the interstate. From there, it's been pretty smooth sailing. We've got a little further to go and it's a straight cruise to the city. The two of us can finally relax.

We had the radio on too – for about ten minutes. Man, our channels absolutely _suck_. This is why I don't listen to radio – it's just a load of hokey country songs. Not even real country music – this weird pop shit. Honestly, I can't stand that stuff – it's an abomination. Brodouche garbage. The only other choice was those bubblegum pop hits that all the stations play. No thanks.

Luckily for us, Bea has always been pretty resourceful. She has this rickety old CD player in her car. The playback is a bit scratchy and sometimes it'll skip mid-song, but it's good enough. At least it means there's no need for us to torture ourselves with the radio. She's got some of her CDs in the car and I brought a few of mine with me too. We take it in turns playing whatever we want. When it comes to taste in music, I think we're mostly aligned.

Anyway, after we'd been going for a while, I found I was really enjoying this whole roadtrip thing. I haven't done something like this in years. All the thoughts of the places we can visit and the things we're going to see – it gave me a rush. I got super excitable while we were going along – I had so much pent-up energy from being shut away in our house for so long. I was pointing at things outside the window and singing and yelling at the other vehicles that went by. Being a nuisance, generally speaking. Think I was _really_ getting on Bea's nerves for a while.

And then, before I knew it, I started feeling awfully tired. I remember my eyes closing and then I just kinda passed out in my seat for a couple of hours. Complete shutdown. I think I wore myself out from all the excitement. Next thing I know, I wake up and we're almost two-hundred miles further down the road. I don't even remember dreaming.

I was a lot calmer after that, which was probably of great relief to Bea. We spent most of the time chatting – mostly just small talk about what we're planning to do, what we want to see, all of that.

Oh yeah, that reminds me: I asked Bea about Gregg and Angus. We left in such a hurry, it didn't even cross my mind to ask her about how they're doing. I still feel a little bad about that. I was hoping she'd be able to tell me something about what they're up to – just an idea of how they're holding up.

No dice. She's been so busy, she hasn't been in touch with either of them. She left them a message about me falling ill – that's it. She doesn't know any more than I do. But there was one thing she said that puzzled me. The day before she found me half-dead in that sewer pipe, she actually attempted to check in on Angus. She had a few minutes between her regular shifts and decided to swing by the video store to catch up with him. Makes sense, I guess – they've been friends for the longest time. But when she got there, he wasn't in work. She asked the woman behind the counter where he was, but she didn't seem to know anything about it. Bea didn't stick around for long after that – she said the valley girl accent was pissing her off.

It's really strange. He wasn't there when I went to check a few days ago, either. Has he really been off work this whole time? Why?

Bea didn't say any more about it after that, which was tough for me. I wanted her to say more. I wanted her to tell me that they're fine. Hell, I wanted her to tell me that they're still _alive_. Honestly. I've still got this lingering feeling – this anxiety that they're gone. It's stupid, I know, but it's eating at me constantly. I just wanna see some proof that everything is fine.

Anyway, I shouldn't be thinking about this right now.

We've stopped at a service station to fuel up and get some food. That's where I'm writing this from. Bea's seen me writing, of course. I wasn't trying to hide it from her, though I haven't shown her the contents – obviously. I told her it's something I've just started doing and that I'm gonna be writing down all the stuff we get up to. I don't know if she's impressed or just a bit confused.

I hope she doesn't think I'm getting on her case, 'cause that couldn't be further from the truth. On the contrary, I'm getting on _my_ case.

Also, the leg's doing ok. It's still giving me some grief but I'm able to walk.

I've been thinking about where we're heading. We've still got some distance to go before we reach our first stop: Millingford. The place where the Red Winder meets the Greater Angelic: that polluted vein that runs through this whole stinkin' nation.

Mmm. I'm looking forward to it. Last time I went there was with Mom and Dad, and I was too little to remember it. Now it's just me and Bea, and the two of us have got a lot of quality time to catch up on together.

I'm having such a good time already.

* * *

Looks like we're taking a bit of a detour. We've been driving for a good few hours and it's getting dark. Bea wants to stop somewhere. I don't know if we'll find anywhere, though. We turned off the freeway a moment ago and there's nothing out here. It's just woods everywhere.

This ought to be interesting.

* * *

We're all alone out here. It's so surreal. Almost feels like we've reached the end of the world.

We managed to find somewhere to stop, eventually. We picked a spot some distance from the main roads. We're parked just off a bend with these rolling valleys below us – some back road in the middle of nowhere. I checked the map and we're not all that far away from the western state forests. It's faint but I can still hear the traffic in the distance behind us.

We're sleeping in the car tonight. I've got the backseats all to myself, with Bea sitting in the front. She's gone quiet for now – think she dozed off a while ago.

I didn't think sleeping in the car would be this cosy. It's super cold outside but we made sure to load up with warm things. We're all wrapped up in blankets and bedsheets we brought along with us. We're like a pair of bugs, sitting snug in our little cocoons. Haha.

I don't think this was part of the plan. Bea just got super tired all of a sudden and needed to stop. I think we were both so eager to get away, we didn't keep track of time and misjudged the distance. It seems a bit uncharacteristic for Bea to just rush off without thinking ahead, but I know she's been dying to get away from home. She was practically running away from that place – we both were – and now we're camping in the wilderness. We're like convicts who just busted out of prison. She orchestrated our jailbreak, with me as her trusty accomplice. Ringleader Bea.

Anyway, I can't pick up driving duties – I still don't have my license yet. So it looks like we're stuck here out here for now.

Before it got too cold, we spent some time lying on the grass bank outside. It sure felt good to stretch our legs after the long drive over. It reminds me of when we used to go camping together when we were younger. The view of the valleys from here is really nice and we got lucky with a clear night sky, too. And the stars are so bright tonight. It got me thinking back to the Fall days on the rooftops with Mr Chazokov's telescope. I've got to get one of those things someday.

It's like this place is made of memories.

We sat outside for a couple of hours, just lying in the grass and gazing at the stars. When we were stargazing together like that, it felt like the weight of the world was fading, pushed away to some distant corner of the universe. I felt so calm –so relaxed. It was pure celestial bliss. For a while, it felt I could just drift away. I thought I was gonna lift off the ground and merge with the sky – melt like a sunset in Fall.

But at some point, things started to change. I got the sense that something was wrong with the sky. I stared at those jittering masses of stars as hard as I could. They suddenly seemed so scattered – so chaotic. I kept my eyes squinted, trying to trace the constellations that I know of. Trying to find patterns – a connecting thread. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it. I couldn't spot a single constellation. It's tough to describe but it felt like the night sky was broken somehow – fractured. I felt like I was staring into a void. A canvas of furious, unbridled chaos. I started to get really scared. My heartbeat picked up and I was shaking. It felt like I was dreaming, just like those dreams I had a few days ago – a fresh bout of frenzied paranoia. I started thinking that the sky was trying to swallow me – that I was going to get sucked up into the vacuum of space. I was clawing at the dirt underneath me, trying to get a hold. I was certain I was going to lift off the ground and fall into the darkness – and that there would be nothing left for me to cling to.

Space is so vast – so effin' huge. Sometimes, it can make you feel tiny – like a bug that's fallen on its back.

Bea noticed something was wrong. Before I knew it, she was by my side and doing what she could to get me under control. I was breaking out in shivers. She took my trembling hand and pointed out a few constellations to me – some of the ones we learnt from camping when we were kids. I didn't recognise them straight away. My mind was scrambled, flying loops inside my skull. Eventually I saw them, and it helped me to breathe a little easier. And, bit by bit, I was able to spot some of my own. Before too long, those bad feelings passed.

I'm not sure why it affected me like that. It's a strange thing to get freaked out about. I guess I'm still feeling fragile after the stuff that happened. It coulda been one of those 'existential' thingies. The human condition – that crap. Hard science. They say our brains are wired to find patterns, and that these patterns inform the way we perceive the world. That's the kind of thing Angus would say. Seems logical to me, but also sorta stupid.

At least it proves I'm still human, I suppose. Obsessively human, maybe. I think I still have a few wires crossed right now.

Once Bea managed to cool me down, we spent some time talking. Strangely enough, I think my little scare helped the conversation to flow. We talked about a whole bunch of things: life, our school days, the future, Possum Springs.

We spoke about the cult stuff too. I was wondering when that was going to come up. There was something there between us – an unspoken assumption that it we would need to speak about it eventually. Probably not the sort of thing we should've spoken about just before bed, but I guess it was inevitable, in that sense.

I know that stuff shook her up every bit as badly as it did for me. She's been having nightmares about it, amongst other things. I don't think either of us have handled it well. Like, how _do_ you come to terms with something like that?

One thing's for sure: Possum Springs is one hell of a strange place right now. Bea told me she had to get away so she could re-evaluate life. She needed to break free of the routine – put some distance between herself and the stuff that's getting her down. Otherwise, you're just kinda trapped in there with it, unable to break away. I think I know exactly how she feels.

Still, as strange as things are right now, Possum Springs didn't vanish. And the two of us, we're still here too. The fact that we're doing this trip gives me hope that things are going to turn out ok. I'm beginning to feel more positive about this whole situation. A little braver, maybe.

You know, this really wasn't such a bad place to stop.

There are all sorts of noises coming from the woods nearby, but I'm not frightened. Bea and I, we rule the world. Nothing can touch us right now.

* * *

Looks like we're down another leg of the trip. Amazingly, we survived the night out in the wilderness. We shoved off at some time in the morning. At least, I assume so. I don't remember anything of it 'cause I overslept again. I just woke up in the back seat and we were back on the road.

We arrived in Millingford at noon. The weather's taken a turn for the worse. Nothing but cloudy skies wherever you look – overcast. It's a far cry from that amazing clear sky from last night. It's kinda miserable.

Once we parked up, we had some time to kill. We spent a while wandering around, taking in the sights. We walked all along the riverside and the main square. As if I wasn't already sick of ice, it's all over the place here. The river's completely frozen over – you get a lot of people who go skating across it. Some of them even tried to make it all the way across to the other side. I don't really get that. Just use a bridge – it's not like there's any shortage of 'em here. I guess that's not really the point, but it doesn't make the _actual_ point any less effin' pointless.

Sorry. I know how I sound. I'm just tired of the cold. Reckon I've had enough ice and snow for a lifetime. It's probably best not to think about it too much.

Bea was checking her mobile a lot while we were walking. At one point, she had to go off somewhere to take a call, and I was left with some time to myself. That's fine – I'm more than capable of amusing myself. I found this park nearby and got chatting with a group of four teens who were hanging out near the playground. Managed to convince them that Bea and I are secretly flesh-eating cannibals. Not really sure how I did that.

It was fun messing with them, but they were also kinda bores. I don't know what it is about city kids. They seem mostly the same as kids from anywhere else but they just sort of lack… something. I don't wanna get too judgemental about it – just putting it out there.

When Bea came back, we went and got pierogi. We were ambling around this old market and I spied this one place making the biggest pierogi I've ever seen. They came out on this big plate that the two of us were gonna share. When it came out, though, Bea said she didn't feel hungry and I wasn't about to let those delicious parcels of goodness beat us. So I didn't hesitate – I ate the whole damn thing.

I surprised myself. Surprised Bea too. Gonna be honest – I was a little worried at first. It's the most I've eaten in a while, by a long way. Thought I'd end up chucking it back up, but I managed to keep it down.

I've felt super queasy for the past couple of days. My stomach was like a malfunctioning boiler – the sort that Bea and I so expertly dealt with. As with the boiler, I just had to show it some tough love to put the situation right. Honestly, it's a relief. The fact that I was capable of eating that much has to be evidence that I'm on the mend. That, or it proves that I can always make space for pierogi.

I guess they don't have to be mutual exclusives.

We spent the rest of the afternoon window-shopping. They've got a massive shopping complex downtown. So many shops but a lot of what they sell is pretty expensive. No real loss – the two of us are mostly broke, anyways. I got the idea of trying to steal these sick-looking skull bracelets from this one place we went to. Bea almost bit my head off for that.

All in all, Millingford is kind of a bummer. A bit lame. Not a whole lot to do. Everywhere feels half-dead – too much traffic and not enough people out on the streets. Everything's too washed-out. Not enough colour or spark. Maybe it's just the time of year but I don't remember it being like this when I was a dumb little kid. Perhaps becoming a dumb little adult has given me a whole new perspective.

Still, if we keep going west we should get to do some real cool stuff. If we can catch a rock festival while we're in town, that would be **amazing**. Plus the science centre and that friggin' huge zoo they have. Man, I can't wait.

We've stopped for thick shakes. I've been writing this while Bea's been getting up and using her phone. Dunno who keeps calling her. I hope it's not anyone from home, or someone from The Ol' Pickaxe asking when she's going to be back. She'll never be able to switch off if they're on her back all the time. Hell, if it's work-related I'd have no issue taking her phone and chucking it in the damn river – assuming it wouldn't just bounce off the surface.

Anyway, we've still got to decide where we're going next and how we're gonna get there. We'll head back to the car in a few minutes, just as soon as I'm done with this massive beast of cream and sprinkles!

You have met your match, milkshake. Prepare to die.

* * *

So we just got done talking about where we're going next. I told Bea about how we should keep going west.

Bea wants us to go to Bright Harbor.

Bright _effin'_ Harbor.

I don't know what she's thinking. Has she thought this through at all? Bright Harbor is _east_ of here – it's completely the wrong direction! Not only that, it's the next state over _on the other side_! That's a long-ass drive, and we're basically doubling-back on ourselves. And for what? So we can waste our lives trawling around some preppy, worthless, gold-plated...

Yes, Bea. I _am_ 'scrawling in indignation' – as you put it, and I'm confused 'cause I don't know what's in your head!

Alright. Cool it, Mae.

Is this a disaster? I dunno. I can think of thousands of other places I'd rather go, but I'm not really in a position to challenge it. It's her car, after all. She could just boot me out if I make too much of a scene about it. Not that she would actually do that, but still…

Argh.

I'm feeling ill again. That chocolate shake is playing tricks on my insides. Talk about revenge from beyond the grave…

Honestly, I'm super disappointed about this. But I guess I can't do anything about Bea's change of heart. Just gotta accept it. I was _so_ hoping we could keep going further west, even if it is a little far out. But this isn't all about me. This is as much her trip as it is mine.

It's just started snowing again too.

Brilliant. As if this couldn't get any worse.

I'm not liking this. Still, we've got some ways to go till we reach Bright Harbor. Until we get there, I reckon there's still some fun left to be had. Party's not stopping here.


	10. Chapter 10

Alright. Back on the road. One more destination to cross off – and a lot of ground to cover before we get there. Gotta make sure we're ready for this.

We stopped for fuel a little while ago. Bea wanted to top up, just to make sure we have enough for the rest of the trip. We pulled in at a gas station a few miles out of Millingford. Lonely little place, despite being on one of the main roads going in and out of the city. I always had this impression of gas stations being sorta forlorn and isolated. It doesn't even matter where they are – whether they're out in the sticks or by a slip road straight outside of town – they just can't shake that lonely air. They'll get the occasional car that pulls in, but they always leave as soon as they're done, leaving them alone again. It's a little sad, really.

While we were filling up, I suddenly remembered something – a question I'd meant to ask Bea ever since she fished me out of that sewer pipe. Somehow, I'd forgotten to ask her about it until now. When she went to look for me, how did she know that I was in trouble? And how did she know where to find me?

Her answer was kinda bizarre. She told me that it all started on that day when she'd tried to see Angus when he wasn't at work. The very same evening, she said she'd had a dream about me. She could see me in distress, tossing and turning, but she couldn't tell where I was. I was stuck in a dark place with shadows crawling all over my skin, and I was trying to fight back against it. And she was just floating there, paralysed, watching me battle this thing. She had to tear her eyes away from it to force herself to wake up.

She didn't sleep for the rest of that night. That nightmare had left her feeling all anxious and shit. She told me that it'd had felt real, like a prophecy or something, and how much it'd freaked her out. That's what tipped her off about me being in trouble. She was certain that something bad was happening to me, or was going to happen.

I can't explain it. It's all pretty strange, right?

She decided to go and check up on me the next day. That's when she found out from Mom and Dad that I was missing. They were conducting a search and Aunt Mall Cop had mobilized half of the town to look for me – something I only found about later. Bea had alluded to it at the time, but I didn't really know what was going on. Anyway, she went off by herself to look for me. That's how she found me under the bridge, tucked away inside that pipe.

I don't think she wanted to mention any of this to me at the time 'cause it was so strange and I was already tripping out. That's fair enough, I guess. At the same time, I don't think she's telling me the whole story. She couldn't have known where I was. Either she got lucky or someone must have helped her find me, right?

I don't know. It's just this weird feeling I have. Maybe it's nothing.

Anyway, I got a little side-tracked there.

I don't really know what the plan is anymore. We're just going to keep driving as far as we can manage for today. Seems like Bea is keen to get to Bright Harbor as soon as possible. Still don't know what all the rush is about. There's really nothing exciting, or interesting, or even noteworthy about that place.

* * *

We've finally stopped somewhere. It feels so good to get out of the car. Seems to be some sleepy old town in the middle of nowhere. I didn't even catch the name of this place and I left the map in the car. All I know is that this is going to be our last big stop before we reach Bright Harbor.

We've booked in at some cheap motel for the night. Bea and I are sharing a room. It's nothing fancy. Actually, looking at this place, 'nothing fancy' might be too generous. Frankly, I'd rather be sleeping outside like we did on the way to Millingford. Still, it'll probably do just fine for us. Neither of us can afford to be picky about where we choose to stay.

Come to think of it, I don't even know how we're paying for this. Bea handled the booking all by herself. Is this coming out of her own pocket?

We're heading out to get food soon. Reckon we'll come back soon and turn in early for the night. Bea seems shattered, which ain't exactly surprising. We've covered a lot of ground today and I totally understand her not wanting to spend two nights in a row sleeping in the car.

I could use some rest too. I'm worn out. Still, I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. I'll be lucky if I sleep at all tonight. Sleeping here puts us a day closer to Bright Harbor.

Ugh.

When I think of it like that, this place suddenly doesn't seem so bad. Hell, sign me up for permanent residency if it gets me out of a trip to Bright Harbor. They'd have to pay me to leave.

I don't know if I'm overreacting, but when I think of what's waiting around the corner, there's a part of me that almost hopes tomorrow never comes.

Alright, enough melodrama.

Eats!

* * *

Urp. I just asked Bea how she's been paying for all of this. Over dinner, no less.

She said she's not. She's skint – she only had a few bucks to bring with her and that's it. My parents slipped her some money to pay for fuel and stuff before we left.

So thanks, Mom and Dad for bailing me out once again. And congratulations Mae, you great big jerkface.

* * *

We're back at the motel now. It's lights out soon. Hopefully we'll make it through the night. I'm still getting all sorts of weird vibes from this place.

I'm just saying – should anyone ever read this: if I don't add another entry after this one, you might want to check that big ol' dumpster out in the alleyway. The one that's painted red and shaped like a coffin.

* * *

We're still at the motel. I can't sleep. My head's pounding – and that's not the only thing.

There's a couple having sex in one of the other rooms.

Hah. 'A couple'. Maybe it's better not to make assumptions about that.

I think it's coming from further down the hallway, so it's not like they're next door to us. But they're _loud_. Like, really, really loud!

This is _brilliant_.

I suppose this is what you get when you choose to stay at one of these sorts of places. Not that we had many options – we just sorta ended up here. Something tells me this wasn't Bea's personal choice.

Speaking of Bea, she's already fast asleep somehow. I have no idea how she's able to sleep through this racket. She must be exhausted. S'pose she _has_ been driving almost all day.

How does someone learn to drive this sort of distance? I get tired enough from just sitting in the passenger's seat, looking out of the window. If I was Bea, I'd probably have fallen asleep at the wheel. It almost makes me glad I haven't got my license yet. Almost.

It's been so good to get away. It feels great to be doing something, anything – not just sitting around and letting my bad thoughts get the better of me. This helps to keep me distracted, I think. Helps me to forget that there are people who see me as a waster – just another college dropout. That's all I'll ever be to some of them: a quitter. That's what they think I'm destined to be, like it's ingrained in my DNA.

They don't know the full story.

But I guess they have a point. Maybe it'd be less of a problem if I could just commit to things. That's always been a problem of mine: I never know what I should be committing myself to, or when, or how. The only thing I've really dedicated myself to recently has been this diary – and I'm still not sure it's doing me any favours. Truth be told, I don't even know how I got into college in the first place. Dumb luck, probably. But now that that's out of the picture, what do I have to look forward to?

What am I going to do with my life?

Other people have things to shoot for: goals, aims, aspirations. And then there's me: perpetually coasting through life, until I hit a brick wall I guess.

Ugh, listen to me. I'm being miserable again. I shouldn't be acting like this.

It's the snow that did it. I just had the image stuck in my head of the falling snow from when we left Millingford. Thank God it stopped coming down so soon after it began and didn't have time to settle. Shit gets me down like no-one's business.

I sometimes wish I had more space in my head for happy thoughts. But that's just the way it is, I guess. I don't write this stuff so I can pretend to be a bundle of sunshine 24/7 – and that ain't gonna change any time soon, for the record.

When I was trying to get to sleep earlier, before the noise started, I was thinking about my own brush with death. It reminded me of a story from years and years ago – a story from home. There was a girl who died when I was growing up. She was maybe only a couple of years younger than me at the time.

Tryin' to remember her name.

Joanne Ackers. Little Joanne. Everyone knows the story of how she met her end. It was a freak accident – the sort of thing you can't account for.

She'd been walking down the sidewalk on her way to school one day. This car, a big old 4x4, came hurtling down the hill at high speed. Somehow, one of its tires came loose and went flying off as it went past. It struck her straight in the chest. Boom. Dead.

It was the talk of the town for a long time. I'm sure they've still got the newspaper clippings about it stored somewhere in the library. There was so much fallout over that incident – it got the whole of Possum Springs riled up. I even heard there'd been a debate where the council considered banning all traffic from the centre of town. Can you believe that? Numbskulls.

I can remember all the parents getting super neurotic too, warning their kids over and over to be careful around cars. Mom and Dad were the same with me, and it rubbed off. I still have vague memories of looking for somewhere to duck for cover whenever I noticed a car coming down the road. No kidding. It's a miracle I didn't develop a full-on phobia of tires. Would've made this whole trip difficult, for a start.

Anyway, my point is that it made me think about how fragile we all are. We all share little Joanne's position – we're all one loose tire away from an early grave. Death doesn't discriminate. Better people than me have lost their lives for no good reason. There's one certainty when it comes to dying: you never think it's gonna be you. Not until you're staring it in the face. And I was close. Really close.

Bea saved my effin' life. I still can't get over it. It's almost too surreal.

I'm never going to be able to repay her for that, am I?

I owe her so much. She's made the last few days kinda magical. It's almost like I've been reborn. I feel so much better than I was a few days ago, and it's all down to her. I couldn't have asked for more from my best available friend.

I know I said I was disappointed about her wanting us to go to Bright Harbor, and I can't go back and edit that stuff out. I probably sounded really peeved at her when I wrote that. I didn't mean it. Sometimes, I fall into the trap of dwelling too much on the negatives. It's a mistake I've made a lot recently. That's just how I am when I overthink stuff. I know it's something I do when I think about Bea and how much she means to me. But I'm telling myself right now to cut it out, because I know Bea is worth _so much_ more than that. Even if I can point out every little bump in the road between us, what she's done for me has been truly special.

I know we've had our disagreements in the past. Things were pretty rocky between us for a while after I got back from college. Let's face it, she had _plenty_ of reasons to be pissed off with me over that. But she's never stopped looking out for me – not once.

I guess what I want to say is this: despite all the crazy things that happened in Fall, I'm so glad I still have her.

…

They're still going. That's some stamina right there.

It's making this whole bit kinda awkward.

What the hell. It's funny, all the same.

Alright, I'm done. I'm gonna try and go back to sleep.

The key word being 'try'.

* * *

We're just getting ready to leave. It's a new day and the road's calling. I'm as keen as I'll ever be to get a move-on. As hospitable as this place has been, I don't think either of us want to stick around here any longer than we have to.

I actually managed to get to sleep in the end. Feeling surprisingly refreshed too. That's kinda amazing. Maybe I didn't give this place enough credit.

Oh yeah – I asked Bea about the 'noise' last night. She doesn't know what I'm talking about.

Maybe it's best for it to stay that way. For now, anyhow. I can bring it up if we ever stay a night in any exceptionally strange places again.

Buh-bye, love shack. Thanks for the memories.

* * *

Stopping for waffles.

Stopping for waffles.

Gonna taste so good, I wrote it twice!

* * *

This trip has been a lot of fun so far. I'm having a blast. Maybe that'll all change once we reach Bright Harbor but I'm trying not think about it. Live in the present, you know?

Still, I wonder how everyone is doing back home. Leaving that place behind at a time like this still feels odd. Like, should we really be out here right now?

Don't get me wrong: I'm enjoying hanging out with Bea a lot. This is the most fun I've had in what feels like ages. But something feels _off_ about all of this. Something's missing.

Gregg. Angus. They should be here right now. We're missing half the crew down here. This cannot stand.

I had a strange moment with Bea half an hour ago. We pulled over at a rest stop so that she could smoke – I mean, without having to roll the window down. We were sat down together at this picnic bench. Aside from us, there were a handful of families there. Their kids were all out playing in the grass together, even though it's still effin' cold out. Kids are funny. So carefree.

While Bea was lighting up, I got to thinking about Gregg – about our raid on the town's Christmas light supply and the stuff I said to him before I stopped seeing him. Then, just out of nowhere, I got this really desperate urge to see him again.

I asked Bea if she's heard anything from him since we left. She just fell silent, like she didn't want to talk about him. It was… weird. Bea and Gregg don't go back too far together, as far as I know, but I don't understand why she wouldn't speak to me about him.

We were just wrapped in this odd silence for a while. All I could hear were the sounds of the cars rushing past on the main road. They just seemed to get louder and louder the longer our little silence lasted. It got to the point where the noise was almost deafening.

I had to drop the topic. If I'd done nothing, I might've come away with burst ear drums. The whole thing freaked me out.

I'll admit, Bea can be tough to read when she wants to be. I'm not best-placed to guess what other people might be thinking right now – my own head is still a bit fried. So maybe it's nothing. But I don't like the way she's acting. Makes me think that something might've happened.

Forget it. I don't know what I'm talking about.

We're less than an hour away from Bright Harbor. Not long now.

This is making me nervous. Something feels seriously wrong.

Why does it feel like I'm being watched?

* * *

We should turn around. This is a mistake.

Come on, Mae. It's just another town, just like any other. We passed through a bunch of 'em on the way here. How bad can it be?

Oh hell. I guess I should get it all out. Maybe airing my grievances will do some good.

Under normal circumstances, I'd probably have nothing against a place like Bright Harbor. I'm sure it's a nice place. I'm certain there's plenty to see and do. I'm positive that everyone who lives there leads the most contented, metropolitan, fulfilling lives imaginable. But that's not the point, is it?

Fact is, I don't _want_ to like Bright Harbor. I want to despise it. I conjure up images in my mind of what it looks like to give myself something to spite. If it had guts to hate, I'd hate them too. If it were a living, breathing human like the rest of us, I would fight it to the death.

Hah. To think I believed this trip was starting to mellow me out.

One of these days, that town is going to take Gregg and Angus away from me. Early next year, they'll leave. I still have some trouble accepting that, if I'm honest.

I don't really remember if I used to hate the idea of Bright Harbor as much as I do now, even back in Fall when they first told me about the move. I surprise myself with my own thoughts, sometimes. Even now, I look back at those words I just wrote, and it amazes me how angry and bitter I sound.

Then I realise it's not _really_ anger – it's fear. Fear that everything will go back to how it was before, and that what is mine will be taken away from me. Fear that I'm gonna be all alone, again. That's what scares me.

Bright Harbor will take them from me. Just the thought of it makes me feel totally effin' powerless.

Eventually, something will come along and take Bea away too. Trust me, it'll happen. Despite what she might think, she _has_ choices. I want to believe I have those choices too, or that I'll take my chances when they present themselves, but I'm unsure. It's something that hasn't worked so well for me in the past.

Either way, the world will continue moving on – and my place in it will become less and less clear. Two certainties.

I know it's wrong but, if I had the strength, I think I would try to put a stop to this Bright Harbor stuff. It feels like a hazard – an impending calamity that needs to be either halted or evaded, at all costs. A deadly patch of icy road that you need to swerve to avoid. But you have no power to avoid slamming into it head-first. It's inevitable. No steering wheel – no brakes.

It's kinda like what Bea said: chasing after something while you stay in the same spot.

I know I shouldn't be thinking like this. Hating a place I've never been to is just dumb, period. It's irrational. Gregg and Angus aren't going to just _disappear_ after they've moved. I know I can still go and visit them whenever I like. It's not my place to dictate what they do with their lives. But I'm still _losing_ something. Something precious, something that won't come back.

Things are going to change irrevocably, no matter how much I try to hold it all together.

I don't know why that worries me so much. There are so many people who wouldn't give two shits about this sort of thing. So what's my problem?

Maybe it's the roots again.

Oh, rootless beings of the world: how I envy your blissful ignorance.

I checked the map. Now that we've double-backed on ourselves, we're not very far away from Possum Springs at all – maybe three or four hours, tops.

God, it's going to be so weird going back there. I'm not even sure I should. I don't know what I should be doing right now, to be honest. Home's a different place from what it was. But I don't know where else I could go.

Perhaps I can convince Bea to keep driving us around forever – drive us to the ends of the Earth. Maybe that's where we're headed.

Everything has gotten so confusing. There's something about this situation that feels very, very dangerous. I'm not kidding.

The only thing I know for sure: it's a good thing I'm not the one driving, or we'd be at the bottom of an effin' cliff right now.

* * *

Well, we're here.

We touched down in Bright Harbor late afternoon. Parked the car. No major calamities. So far so good.

As soon as we got out of the carpark, Bea said we had roughly two hours before we needed to be back. Whatever. I've learned not to ask any more questions. Bea's running the show – I'm just along for the ride.

In the end, two hours was just enough time for us to do some exploring. We wandered around the main square which has this big ol' stage. I think that's the area where they always host the festivals. I can still remember Bea's story about the balloon crashing and killing a bunch of people. I don't think I'll be rushing to see any of their festivals anytime soon.

S'pose if I grew up here I might've come away with a phobia of balloons.

I'll say this: I might have been wrong about Bright Harbor. It's a pretty cool place. Colour me stunned. It's not really what I expected at all. I thought I was gonna hate the place just as much as I'd worked myself up to hate it. I had the worst image of it in my head – some glitzy, pretentious cesspit full of hipsters and those mealy-mouthed, culture vulture types. Lowlife central. But it's actually nice. It's chill. Plenty going on and probably a decent place to live, too. A good mix.

We actually did some serious shopping this time, too. They've got some pretty cool places at the mall at the end of the high street. It kinda reminds me of Fort Lucenne back in its hayday, only a lot bigger. I bought a couple of things, including a photo album for those photos I found in my room. The front's decorated with this weaving pattern that reminds me of a cluster of trees. It's nice. Mom will like it, for sure.

Honestly, I had a good time here today. Bea seems to like it here, too. The more I think about it, the more I realise I might've been worrying about this whole 'move' thing way too much. The fears I was hanging on to about this place almost seem funny to me now.

Gregg and Angus – they'll be happy here. It's just a feeling, but I get the sense that this place ain't gonna mistreat them. Just watch those balloons, boys.

In all seriousness, knowing that they'll like it here helps to put me at ease, too. I'm starting to feel a bit better about the move. And I'll definitely come back here to visit them. I mean, I was gonna do that anyway – even if it ended up being a total dump.

I don't know where we go from here. Honestly, this seems like more of a whistle-stop tour. We were rushing around towards the end in order to make it back in time. We're back in the carpark right now, but I don't know why we had to rush back. We haven't even left yet. We're just hanging around, like we're waiting for something to happen. I'm just sat here on the back seat, waiting for us to shove off, with Bea standing outside. She's on her phone, again.

I don't even know where we'll go from here. Further North, up into lake country? I'm not sure how I feel about that. Maybe if we were gonna go camping, I'd be up for going mad and getting lost in the mountains. But it's taken us long enough just to get this far. It's been fun, but I'm feelin' a little worn out. I think the constant travelling might be starting to get to me.

I'm probably just getting old.

* * *

Holy shit! Angus and Gregg just turned up – right outta nowhere!

What's going on?!

Gotta go!

BRB


	11. Chapter 11

Jeez. What an evening. Holy crap.

I barely know where to begin.

I guess it all started after Bea and I got back to the car. We just got done with what we'd wanted to see in town and I swore we were getting ready to leave. Next thing I know, Angus's car is pulling into the parking lot! I had to pinch myself at the time, and I still can't fully grasp it now. Gregg and Angus are right here with us, in Bright Harbor! I've gotta admit, they gave me a bit of a fright. I almost jumped out of my skin when the two of them came rocking up out of nowhere. It was like coming face-to-face with a ghost.

But now that I've had some time to think, I'm beginning to make sense of it. Some things have become a bit clearer since they showed up. At least now I know who Bea's been on the phone to this whole time. No kidding – it took me a while to piece together what'd happened.

It looks like word got out that I was unwell. I remember Bea messaged them about it before we left. Even so, I can't say I ever expected them to come all the way out here on my behalf. It was so strange to me that they'd do this – I just couldn't take it at face value.

Anyway, they decided they wanted us to do something together. We considered heading back to the mall, but it was already getting dark and the shops were beginning to shut. We ended up going for food at some pasta joint downtown – Gregg and Angus's recommendation. They already know the layout fairly well, so Bea let them lead the way while we tagged along.

The whole way there, I was almost completely speechless. It felt like a dream. I had a million and one questions rushing through my head all at once, but I couldn't get a single thought out. Still, I figured getting dinner would probably help to get things flowing between us. And I gotta say, the food at the place we went to was really good. It was no Pastabilities – there will never be another Pastabilities – but it wasn't a bad substitute at all. I've bookmarked it for next time I'm in town.

When we arrived, we got a table together. It got me thinking back to our times at the Clik Clak. Just the four of us – just as it should be. It was like we were taking a trip back to those golden times. And for a while, I was so happy.

Still, I knew this wasn't the same as one of our usual meet-ups. There was something else going on beneath the surface. Angus was in good spirits, but Gregg seemed off. He spent most of the time huddled next to Angus, just sorta smiling weakly. And he was quiet – really quiet. Totally un-Gregglike behaviour. I knew something was up right away.

Angus agreed to fill us in on what's been going on since we all last met up together (which could've been, I don't know, a year ago?). But before that, he apologised to me. He said he felt really guilty about what'd happened to me and that we're still friends and he hadn't meant to come across like he was cutting me off. To be honest, I couldn't understand why he seemed so concerned, or why he even felt the need to apologize. What's there for him to feel guilty about? It doesn't make sense to have other people apologise for my own messed-up head. Honestly, as heartfelt as his apology was, I almost blanked while he was giving it. In the end, I just told him not to worry about it.

He then went on to explain what he's been through since we last saw each other.

What he told us, I hadn't expected to hear. He _really_ hasn't had a good time of it.

Roughly a week ago, he had to take another trip out to visit his douchebag relatives. Turns out, the experience ended up being maddeningly stressful for him. He didn't go into great detail about it (in fact, he barely said anything) but I can tell he went through some shit. The day after he got back, he was struck down by a fever – probably something he caught while he was out there. He said it's the lowest he's ever felt, and the stress just made everything worse. He came back in such a state, he had to take time off work – a lot of time. He was slipping in and out of illness constantly. Whenever he thought he was starting to get well, he'd be bedridden the next day. He even started to think he'd never get better. Poor guy.

His sickness put Gregg under a ton of pressure. He had to care for Angus the whole time he was ill, as well as keeping up with his dayshifts at Snack Falcon. He didn't have any choice about the job – if they'd both stopped working during that period, it would've endangered their plans for next year. Between caring for his boyfriend and work, he had no time for anything, or anyone, else. And it's pretty clear to see – I could tell what Gregg's been through just by looking at his face. He looked super, super tired, like someone who hasn't slept properly in a fortnight.

At first, I didn't know how to properly react to what Angus was saying. The truth completely shocked me. All this time, I'd been so frightened that they were trying to shut me out of their lives, when in actual fact they'd been suffering, too. I felt like a total asshole for how I treated him and Gregg – the thoughts I'd entertained about them leaving me to rot. The mere fact I'd thought that about them made me feel sick and ashamed. Yet, at the same time, I was just so overwhelmed to see them both again. It was a really messy conflict of emotions.

I thought I was gonna burst into tears in front of them. All I wanted to do was cry, and the effort to hold it back was unbearable. I would've cried, I reckon, even though it's been, what, how many times in just over a week? My throat was like a dried-out riverbed and I could feel the tears welling up in their little underground streams. I was more than ready to drown that place.

But then something changed. Out of nowhere, this image of Angus entered my head – just him trying to recover from his fever after me and Gregg turned their flat into a Winter wonderland. He's passed out on the sofa in their living room, with the Christmas lights we'd stolen twinkling away and heaps of that stupid, fake snow piled up on the floor around him. On top of that, he's wearing that green cardigan he's always got on. It makes him look like one of Santa's elves who decided to take a nap, only he's already such a big guy...

Something about that image just tickled me in a way I can't describe. So instead of crying, I laughed. I howled like a damn hyena. I think I almost died. I don't know what the others thought – or anyone else eating in that place, for that matter. They must've wondered if I'd lost my mind. We're lucky they didn't kick us out.

I shared the image I had of Angus with the others. I don't really know why. I guess I could hardly keep the reason for my sudden outburst hidden from them. I don't know about Bea, but Gregg seemed to find it funny. He said that's _exactly_ how it'd looked. Even Angus laughed a little bit. Thank God he laughed. If he hadn't seen the funny side, I don't know what he would've thought of me. Angus is such a good sport, going along with my dumb jokes.

He only offered one caveat: he suggested that I should leave interior decorating to him from now on. Fair enough. I'm willing to let that one go. Decorating has never been an area where my talents lie.

After we'd eaten, Gregg asked me to come outside with him. He wanted us to have a proper chat about stuff from home – just me and him, mano a mano. We left Bea and Angus sitting at the table together. We agreed it was probably for the best to give them some time to discuss things between themselves. I still got a few sour looks from some of the diners as we headed for the door.

Once we were outside, Gregg announced that he wanted to find somewhere secluded. I didn't really question it, even though we weren't far from the pier and the sea breeze meant it was effin' cold outside. It was already dark too, the steel street lamps casting their hazy glows to light our path.

After some searching, we found a suitable back alley nearby. As far as alleyways go, this one wasn't so bad. No gangs, no-one trying to sell you anything. No coffin-shaped dumpsters. I've seen worse neighbourhoods, that's for sure.

Gregg was a bundle of nerves. I could spot all the tells right away. He had a pack of cigarettes on him and immediately lit one up as soon as we were out of sight. I even saw his hands shaking while he was fumbling his lighter. I mean, I won't pretend that the cold wasn't getting to me, but I can recognise nerves when I see them. Not to mention that, under normal circumstances, he barely ever smokes. Angus hates it.

He seemed even more on edge when he started talking. When he spoke to me, he'd periodically give this strange, reflexive jolt. I don't think it was his nerves, but more like his body was trying to keep him from dozing off on the spot. Like I said, he looked _seriously_ effin' tired.

On reflection, I think I knew what I was in for before he even started talking. He'd been quiet for most of the day – but I knew there was something he desperately wanted to get off his chest.

He told me about how he'd found us here. Looks like this whole 'visit Bright Harbor' idea had been _his_ idea, not Bea's as I'd first thought. He said he'd desperately wanted to pay me a visit at home after Bea had messaged him about me falling ill, but he'd had his hands full, what with Angus falling ill and being cooped up at Snack Falcon all day.

When he'd finally found a chance to visit, we were already out of town. Apparently, Bea hadn't told him about the roadtrip, or where we were heading. And he couldn't reach her on her phone without a signal. He actually had to use Angus' car to drive out to Donut Wolf in the middle of the night, without Angus knowing about it, just so he'd have signal to speak to Bea. I can't actually believe that was his solution. And this fool doesn't even have a licence! If they'd caught him like that, he would've been in deep shit.

Still, at least it was his boyfriend's car. Gregg's the sort of guy who would've tried to hotwire someone else's car if he had no other option. So it's probably just as well that it didn't come to that. I still find it funny that they never bought a landline for their place. It might've saved him a lot of trouble, but I guess that wouldn't be _keeping it real_.

He almost crashed the car on the way out, too. Said he saw his whole life flash before his eyes for a moment. I'm not supposed to tell Angus about any of this, by the way.

As if all of that wasn't bad enough, he couldn't even get through to Bea the first few times he tried to ring her. I think this was the night where we stopped in the middle of nowhere. He had to wait it out in the parking lot until the very next day. He was camped out there, all on his own, living on nothing but donuts until he could finally get through to her. He can laugh about that bit at the very least, but he's still worried about how Bea reacted. He said she's incredibly, unbelievably pissed off with him. Frankly, it's something I'd already noticed. When they arrived, I saw the way she was eying Gregg. She was acting really distant towards him for a while. The first time he tried to speak to her, she immediately gave him the cold shoulder. It was kind of brutal to watch.

I suppose I kind of get it. He ruined her plans for a roadtrip and made her drive all the way back to Bright effin' Harbor of all places, when I reckon she would've been happier as far away from home as possible. But it's not just that. I think she's also angry at him for what'd happened with me and how he'd stayed away when I was ill. It's not something she ever spoke to me about while we were travelling together, but I think that's what it is.

Still, she changed her tune when she heard about the situation with Angus. She hadn't known anything about that – same as me.

This whole thing has all been one big, dumb misunderstanding.

That's when Gregg got really kinda serious – maybe more serious than he's ever been. He just looked me straight in the eye – the first time he'd done that since he got here – and I could see something troubling going on behind his own eyes. He wanted to know what I'd thought when I was struggling on my own, when I ran off for the woods by myself. He asked me if I'd believed that him and Angus were _really_ trying to get rid of me this whole time.

I didn't know how to answer him. I said I was confused. At the time, nothing had made any sense to me. It's not something I'd _wanted_ to believe. But things had happened so suddenly and for some reason, my mind defaulted to the worst imaginable possibility. Honestly, it was more my fault than anyone else's.

Things went downhill fast after I admitted that. I was hoping an honest answer would've helped. Not in this instance.

I don't think I've ever seen Gregg cry properly – he's not a big baby like me – but he came damn close tonight. I'm unsure if there was something he's been suppressing or holding back, but it all came out at once. It could've been anything, really. Maybe it was the stuff with Casey coming back to haunt him. He hasn't gotten over that, either – same as me.

He was in pieces, full-on freaking out. I've never seen him like that before. It had me scared. He said he felt awful that he hadn't come to visit me when I was ill – that he'd betrayed me, somehow. He kept saying that word, 'betrayed', over and over. He'd had to make a choice, he said, and the fact he'd 'chosen' to stay away had made him sick with guilt. His decision had been driving him insane, keeping him up all night with anxiety.

Oddly enough, I almost felt like _I_ was the one who was freaking out the most over this. The way he was acting was bringing back my own feelings of anxiety. He had me sweating bullets and I thought I was going to get the terrors again. He had to stop. I just desperately wanted him to stop beating himself up over it. He's the sort of guy who'll beat himself up over things – I mean _really_ beat himself up. It makes me worried he'll go overboard when he acts like that.

I don't think it's right or fair that he's thinking about it that way, or that he's suffering for it, but I could see the truth in what he said. The idea that his best friend thought he was ditching her really seemed to torment him.

I don't want to sound like I have a heart of stone when I say this: I'm touched that he feels that way about me, but it doesn't change the fact that his reasoning is a load of BS. I told him to knock it off – tried to get him to stop, but he wasn't listening. He was totally inconsolable.

For a moment, I almost seized up completely. I knew I had to say something, anything, to try to calm him down. No-one was going to come to help – it was just me and him together in some backstreet in the middle of nowhere. But I'm usually terrible at this kind of stuff, and I was almost certain that anything I said would just make it worse. It felt like the worst possible time for this to be happening.

All the same, I couldn't just stand there and watch Gregg like that. He was suffering on the inside, and it hurt me to witness it.

It was like when Bea and I were together, when I was freaking out and she was there to calm me down – only now the roles were reversed, and I had to play her role for Gregg. It felt like I was standing in Bea's shoes. I finally needed to try my hand at being responsible.

Well, I did my best. I just told him that I didn't feel like he was 'choosing' to get rid of me. I just don't see it that way, and neither should he. We're still besties – nothing's gonna change that. Even after they move away, we're gonna still see each other. What he thought was a 'choice' is just something that happens – it's normal. Everyone has things that're important to them, after all. It's not about sacrifice – it's about doing what's best for you. As long as you hang on to the things that matter to you, they'll never disappear.

I don't really know if I was speaking from experience – I don't have a lot of that. It's more to do with the way I feel, even if it's a little idealistic. But that's what I said to Gregg, and it seemed to work to calm him down. I think he understands. I think.

Ugh, what a rollercoaster of an evening. I'm dying for a shower.

Anyway, I think the moment's passed. It's a big relief that Gregg's cooled off for now, but I know he's still thinking about this stuff. He's worried that Bea doesn't want him hanging around with us anymore. He's being silly – I know that's not the case. Bea's not like that. She'll forgive him, for sure.

As we were heading back to the diner, we got chatting about some other things. Nothing important, really, but it helped to clear the air. Things were finally starting to wind down.

Then, like a complete idiot, I apologised for almost calling him a coward a few days ago after I ran out of the Snack Falcon. Literally, I apologised for _almost_ calling him a coward – that thing I'd wanted to say at the time but hadn't said, only to write it down and blurt it out one week later. I don't know what I was thinking, or why I thought it needed an apology. No-one wants to hear apologies for things you _almost_ said.

I knew I would regret writing something like that down. Writing things down keeps them fresh in the mind, just so you can blab about it later like a moron. That's how it works, at least in my experience.

Things were looking bad. I could tell he was kinda shocked at first and I was sure I'd messed up big time. I _really_ didn't want to set him off again.

But he surprised me with a pretty decent comeback:

"Too bad you didn't _actually_ call me a coward, so I could punch your lights out."

I have to admit, he really got me there. Not bad form for a guy who was losing his mind just a few minutes before.

It's just too bad the council didn't mistake him for one of their Christmas lights, hang him outside Town Hall and run 10,000 volts through his skeleton.

Love you, Gregg.

Once we got back to the diner, Bea and Angus were ready to leave. Angus even picked up the bill for us – his treat. What a nice guy.

There's a place not far from here where we're staying for the night. I think we were all sorta tired from the mixture of food and drama, but none of us were ready to turn in for the night just yet. We ended up sauntering down to the pier together and found a good spot to chill out on the wharf. The whole area is massive and stretches out for what seems like miles. We perched ourselves on the edge of the seawall, looking into the bay area and out towards the ocean in the distance. Surprisingly, there was barely anyone else around. We probably weren't allowed to be there, not that I particularly care about that.

I'm actually kinda stunned at how pretty it was. There was a ton of mist rolling in from the sea, though the water was fairly calm. The night sky was so clear, with the moon dancing in the water of the harbor. The way the light reflected off its surface, it seemed to make the world glow. And of course, the stars were out again tonight. They were stunning, though I couldn't help but think of home as I watched them sparkle. It reminded me of the past when we would go stargazing on a clear night up on Possum Jump. Nothing will be able to beat that – but this definitely wasn't a bad effort.

We had this long moment where we just sat there together, staring at the stars. It was dang cold and pretty uncomfortable but no-one felt any need to move. Nobody said a word. It was like we all had our own things we were thinking about. Or maybe we were all thinking about the _same_ thing?

For what it's worth, I know what I was thinking. There's something about a night sky that just makes your mind open up. Looking at those stars, my head was filled with so many thoughts and ideas and endless questions. But riding above them all, there was one question that stood out in my mind:

What's next for us?

Are we going to be able to stay together like this forever, or will it all come to an end some day? And if so, what'll take its place? With so much changing around us, what does the future hold?

I've been asking myself these questions ever since I got done with college. The aftermath of Fall only got me thinking about it more. Even now, it's something I wonder about all the time. But as I looked at that sky, things started to make a lot more sense.

I think I finally understand why I was so nervous about coming here – why it felt so dangerous. I thought it was kinda strange at the time but all this time, I'd been trying to hide the answer from myself. It's 'cause this is the tipping point. I knew it, even before Angus and Gregg showed up. This town was gonna make me face up to the future – that's what this all represents.

I also believe that's why Bea and Gregg brought us together here, even if they don't know it. Trust me – this sort of thing doesn't just happen by chance. This shit was _preordained_.

Now, I have a decision to make. This is where I decide how I want the future to play out. With the stuff going on around us, I was starting to worry that I was powerless to influence things. But the truth is: I _do_ have a choice. That's what this place has been trying to tell me.

We're planning to head back tomorrow. I don't think Bea can afford to take any more time off than this. That's fine. I think it's time to go home, too.

It's gonna be strange to go back. There's still a lot to clean up, and I ain't just talking about my room. Things are going to stay strange for a good, long while. But I'm not scared of going back anymore.

This was worth it. This whole trip has been an eye-opener for me. I'm sure it's the same for Bea, too. We both needed this. And honestly, with everyone back together again, I'm happy. This is the happiest I've felt in weeks. It's magical.

I think I'm going to look back on this little excursion in a few years and I'll be able to recapture some of the happiness I feel right now, so long as I can remember at least some of the details (but hey, that's what this is all about, right?).

I'm glad I wrote this.

* * *

Goodbye, Bright Harbor. You were kinder than expected.

And see you soon, I guess.

We left town roughly an hour ago after getting food and having another quick look at the markets. We all woke up hungry this morning, so we went out and got pizza first thing. I think we ran out of ideas and no-one complained about the suggestion (my suggestion, of course). Besides, we all know that breakfast pizza is the best. Incidentally, I plan on proposing an amendment to the pizza scale, factoring in all pizza eaten at unconventional times of day, and leftovers. I've thought way too hard about this so I expect it to be welcomed with unanimous agreement.

Pizza was great, by the way. I know I mentioned it plenty of times already but holy cow, the food in this place is amazing! They have almost everything. We even bought a bunch of these homemade quesadillas to take back with us and they look incredible, even if it's sort of a cheese overload…

Ok, I'll stop. I'm not turning this thing into a travel guide – or a draft for some kind of weird food blog.

Gregg's holding up fairly well. No more outbursts. After his escapade with the car, he's been on his best behaviour. Maybe he's just following suit from yours truly (it's not likely).

I didn't mention Casey to him. There's no need to reopen that can of worms right now. I'm going to speak to him some more once we get back home. We'll decide what we're gonna do about it. It'll be tough but I think we're going to be fine.

Speaking of which, I had another dream about him last night. Casey, I mean. They're usually pretty frightening experiences for me – I won't go into detail here. But this wasn't the frightening sort of dream. It was sorta peaceful, in a strange way. I don't really know what to say about it. Maybe it's a sign of better things to come – whatever the opposite of 'omen' is.

I'm in Bea's car for the trip back. Angus and Gregg are following just behind us. We can't be more than a couple hours away from Possum Springs. There's a lot of stuff we need to catch up on. First order of the day when we get back: band practice. We all agree it's been too long since our last session. I'll need to borrow Gregg's bass again, but that's fine – I'm more than used to that old beast already. I've even got an idea of what song we can play.

So… yeah. I guess this is really the end of our road trip, huh?

It's funny. On the face of it, I've gotta admit the trip was pretty lame. We only got to visit two of the main locations we planned, and we didn't cover _that_ much distance. Save for Bright Harbor, we barely even left the state. All I'm saying is that this wasn't what I was expecting.

And yet, this is just fine.

I've been thinking more about this diary stuff. I might take a break from writing for a while. I'm getting the sense that it's time to move on. Reflecting on the past has helped, I think. But now, I need to look to the future. _We_ need to look to the future. So it may be a little while before I do another one of these.

It's crazy to think that we were all struggling with our own problems. We all believed we were isolated in our own way. Fate did its best to drive us apart. But now, nothing can stop us. The crew are reunited and we're taking on the world, together!


	12. Chapter 12

Hey. It's me again.

Didn't think I'd be writing another one of these so soon, but that's how it goes. I wanted to give it some more time, but it didn't feel right to leave this half-finished. Sometimes you just need to draw a line under it. Hopefully I can tie up some loose ends at the same time.

It's been a few days since we got back from Bright Harbor. It's been a busy time. I get the feeling things are starting to come together, slowly but surely. A lot of stuff has happened in such a short time but, to be honest, I don't feel like writing it down right now.

Ironically, that's why I'm writing this now. I've been thinking about all the stuff that's happened over the past week or so, and I've had a realisation.

I don't need this diary anymore.

It was a fun experiment, short-lived as it was. It's not a perfect account of events, not by any means, but I've given it my best shot. I still don't know if I'm comfortable with the idea of showing it to anyone, at least for now. It'll likely end up locked away in a dusty old cupboard or something. It probably won't end up in any museums, but that's ok. In hindsight, I think it was a success. It gave me the space to reflect on things going on in my life. It fulfilled its purpose.

I still find myself thinking back to a week ago when things got so dark – when I worried I was being cut off from my friends. I guess I was still suppressing some of the stuff from the past and it kinda snuck up on me all at once in one big, bad episode. I saw things changing and shifting all around me, and it freaked me out. But I'm feeling better now – a _lot_ better.

There are some big changes still to come, not the least being Angus and Gregg's move to Bright Harbor. That's going be _huge_. But now, I think I have the courage to face up to the truth. I don't feel the same need to push back against it anymore. Change can be scary, sure, but it doesn't _have_ to be that way.

It took me a while to get there, but I think I'm beginning to understand. Slowly but surely, Mae Borowski is beginning to turn a corner.

But now that I've spoken about me and taken my lumps, let's talk about you.

Yeah, you.

I know you're still there. You've been here this whole time, even when I tried to pretend you'd gone away.

Ever since that night, I haven't spoken to you directly – not until now. I consider that to be a good thing. It means that I succeeded in shutting you out.

It wasn't easy for me to put you aside. When Bea and I were on the road, I would constantly get the urge to contact you again – write something addressed to you or think about you. It was tough to prevent myself from doing that, but I managed it. I even resisted the impulse to draw more of those stupid pictures of you. And in doing so, I proved to myself that I'm stronger than you think I am.

Futureperson.

How strange it is to write that name again. It still sounds dumb as hell. I don't know how I couldn't come up with something better.

Anyway, your name isn't important. What bothers me is that you're still here. You're still looking over me – waiting for me to slip up again. Even now, I can sense you watching me. You're right there, only you're further away now. I'm looking at you from behind a glass wall – the sort that can stop bullets. I'm not able to cross that distance anymore. I am safe here.

When I started this diary, I did something dangerous. I created something dark.

I created _you_.

Perhaps, because of that, you're not entirely to blame. Maybe you're more of a symptom than anything. Or maybe you really _are_ the reason behind all of this.

I don't really know how it happened. It all started out as a joke, more or less – just a character I dreamt up in my very first entry to this diary: the person from a far-flung future world who ends up reading what I've written here, centuries from now. From there, I just kinda latched on to the idea. I hyper-focused on the possibility of you being a real person – a reader – and I grew more and more obsessed. My mind took the idea that birthed you and gave you shape.

That's all you were at first – a dumb little idea to amuse myself. An effin' _gag_. But before long, I was thinking all sorts of crazy things about you. How I got from one point to another, I might never fully understand.

I guess I got wrapped up in the idea that there could be someone who was taking notice of me when things were getting tough. I believed there was someone willing to listen to me when I needed help. Someone who could understand all of the crazy things I was pouring out onto the page. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that there was _something_ there and, without really even being aware of it, you came to be.

It really is the strangest thing.

This whole experience reminded me of some of the embarrassing stuff I used to browse online when I was still in high school. It's something I'd almost forgotten about entirely, until a few days ago.

I remember stumbling across a series of sites for this super obscure society – a group for people who want to create their own imaginary friends. Most of the people using those sites were older than me, full-on adults, but there were some teens getting involved, too. I can't remember the name of it right now. It was just another one of those strange online communities I used to lurk on and nose around in, mostly just for giggles. The world's a strange place and the internet is like a goldmine of strangeness, especially when you dig deep.

Anyway, these sites had a ton of detailed information on the subject of creating a companion. There were instructions on how to do it: the steps you had to follow, how to interact with them, how to control them or let them act independently, how to terminate them if they become a problem.

Isn't that really _weird_?

Thinking back, I can say that it definitely left an impression on me - maybe just 'cause of how 'out there' it seemed as a concept. It's still a super strange idea to me, but there's also something to it that I can sorta understand. I mean, being alone – truly alone – sucks, doesn't it? Creating someone who can always be with you at any given time – I've gotta admit, it makes more sense than _some_ of the things I've read online. I started to wonder if I would attempt something like that myself, if I was ever to become that lonely.

I don't know if it's got anything to do with this. I never tried it myself - not deliberately. It's not something I ever spoke to anyone about, friends or family, and especially not Mom. I doubt the church would approve of something like that. But it might have something to do with the accident that led to you. If I didn't create you on purpose, then maybe I did something involuntarily, subconsciously.

Life can be pretty tough sometimes, but you made me worry about how deep my problems go. I've suffered my fair share of delusions over the years – but dreaming up imaginary people? That's a new one for me. I'll be honest, I found it a little creepy at first. But for now, I'm rolling with it.

Anyway, that's my best guess about where you came from. In the lonely confines of my room, I accidentally created someone to keep me company. Futureperson – my very own imaginary friend.

Only you weren't my friend. You were never a friend of mine, even if I mistook you for one. I wish I'd realised that sooner.

When I started speaking to you properly, I felt so close to you. There was an… intimacy about it, if I'm being honest. It's true that I saw you as my friend. Perhaps I even saw you as _more_ than that, as strange as it sounds. I wanted to trust you. I gave you access – let you into my streamofconsciousness. I found comfort in you. I sought validation from you. But now, I see I was just giving you more and more power over me, and you seem to have your own goal in mind.

I think you tried to steal my soul.

At the time, it felt like I was reaching an endpoint. I was in a dark place and my mind got all twisted. I saw darkness, nothingness, coming to consume this town. It scared me – I was fixating on the horrible thoughts being planted in my head. I needed someone to tell me it wasn't going to all disappear – that when I closed my eyes at night, I would wake up to _something_. I needed to know that it wouldn't all be gone, and that I wouldn't disappear with it.

So I became reliant on the idea of you. I started to believe that you were real. That night when I was alone and shivering in my room, you were more real to me than anything else in the world. I even started to believe that without you, I would cease to exist.

But you were never real – not until I gave you life. I raised you in my head. I nurtured you. But unlike my little miracle rats, there is nothing miraculous about you. And I never needed you, either. You were the devil on my shoulder, as Mom might put it, leading me astray, and my constant projecting hid that from me. I didn't realise what was going on – how I was letting you manipulate my thoughts. By the time I understood what was happening, it was almost too late.

When I started writing this, I said that I need to be honest with myself. I was convinced that the bad things that were happening to me were my fault. It's still difficult to disentangle myself from that – I'm at least partially responsible for what happened. But I was oblivious to the extent of your influence over me.

Now I know that it wasn't me doing those things to myself – it was _you_.

You made me cry for hours on end. You made me stop eating for three days. You made me flip out and smash the shit out of my room. You made me pass out on the floor. You made me run away from home and sent me wandering outside town like some wicked banshee. You terrified me, making me believe that it would all end.

All of that happened because of you. It took some time for me to properly understand that. And in doing so, I finally started to realise what you are. You're not some benevolent, caring reader from the future. You're something that comes from within. You are bad. Once I understood that, I knew you had to be isolated before I could get rid of you.

It truly scared me to discover how much power you had over me. Even worse, I kept you hidden from everyone else. I told no-one about you. I sheltered you – kept you tucked away in the pages of this diary. I concealed you behind my drawings – your thousands of faces.

Even now, I haven't told anyone about you, but for a different reason. It's 'cause I know I can deal with you myself. I'm not frightened of you anymore.

The hell of it is that I still never figured out who or what you are. It's strange to think that I spent so much time trying to figure you out. Part of me says it doesn't matter, but the other part is still curious as to your true identity. Those pictures I drew of you were distortions – they're not the real thing.

If you are what I think you might be, I want you to know one thing: you lost. You couldn't lure me back down into those mines like you sought to do. Your attempts to masquerade as a friend did you no good. I know who my real friends are.

If you're wondering why I still refer to you as a person, an individual, it's because I reject you. You have no right to be a part of me. You're a parasite. I am done with you. I'm going to leave you behind – bury you in these pages, in hopes that you never come to harm another person again. And even if you don't disappear from me completely after this, I will never stop fighting you.

Even if this needs to end, I don't want to give up writing for good. Honestly, I've enjoyed the experience a whole lot. I'd like to do more, if I can get some good ideas. Maybe I'll get some tips from Selmers. But for now, this is where we must part ways.

So it's goodbye to this diary. And it's goodbye to you, Futureperson. Good effin' riddance.

In fact, I'm gonna go one step further – because you deserve it.

I told you a lot about myself in these pages - a lot more than I'm comfortable with. If you never knew me before this, I expect you must have a pretty good picture of me by now. However, there's one little thing I never told you.

I am descended from a long line of witches who made their homes in the woods where Possum Springs now is, born under a harvest moon. The residents of Possum Springs continue to pass down their story to this very day, but none of them know of my lineage. I have the blood of witches coursing through my veins, and I have some knowledge of their magic.

Before we got back home, when we were stargazing in Bright Harbor, I placed a terrible curse on you. In doing so, I 'created' something else – the fiercest creature I could conjure to hunt you down. A beast from beyond the dark veil of space, born of every constellation in that night sky – a little cosmic horror of my own.

For the rest of your days, you will be stalked by a vicious, bloodthirsty creature whose footsteps rumble with a thunderous bass, and it's hell-bent on making you pay for what you tried to do to us.

Sorry that you're only finding out about this now. You'd better start running.

Pray the nightmare eyes don't find you when you least expect it.

* * *

Alright, I'll stop goofing off. Time to wrap this up.

You know, I just realised something. Looking back on what I've written, I'm kind of nervous that someone else is actually going to read this at some point. Not a made-up person or whatever – I mean a real-life person – an actual reader. They'll see that I've been speaking to effin' _imaginary_ people, and they'll be like "Mae, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what you're writing? You even addressed the first two entries to some museum from the future that doesn't even exist – are you completely nuts?"

Doesn't exist _yet_ – that's all I have to say. Doesn't exist _yet_. And when it does, I'm gonna find a way to get in there.

So, just on the _off-chance_ that an actual reader is finally reading this, I'll say this: thanks for putting up with me. You deserve some sort of award for getting through this. I'd give you one, if I had one to give.

I want you to know that I haven't gone mad – honestly – and that I'm not struggling with the things that've been keeping me down, anymore. Things have gotten so much better than they were, it's crazy. I'm happier now than I have been for a long time – and I truly mean that. While Possum Springs is still a strange place, we're taking on the oddities and challenges together.

That reminds me: there's something Angus said that night when we were in Bright Harbor that really stuck with me. He said that no matter what the world throws at us, the four of us will always be stronger together. We're survivors. Some things may change – and others will stay the same – but we'll tackle the change as one. Even when things seem dark and uncertain, as long as we hold on to what matters, we'll pull through together. Me, Gregg, Angus, Bea: we're always going to look out for each other. That's the constant. That's what it means to be friends.

He's so, so right about that. I should have seen it before. And I think I'm finally starting to understand my place in all of this.

Anyway, I've got to start thinking about Christmas. Mom loves the photo album by the way, but I should really get her and Dad something special this year for putting up with me. Same goes for my friends. Not to mention I'll need to get something for Angus and Gregg's housewarming next year, too.

Jeez. Since when did I become a committed gift buyer?! Do I even have _money_ for all of this?

I wonder if next year's gonna be as crazy as this one's been.

Maybe that's just life. Maybe.

* * *

END

Thank you so much for reading!


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